Forgiveness Drives Devotion

Have you ever felt like you are drying up?  You're reading your bible, praying, in fellowship, engaged at church, and yet you struggle to make it through?

If you're like me, you've had seasons where that has lasted a long time, and moments where it's been merely half a day.  But neither are fun.  And it's hard in those moments to love Jesus and be faithful.  It's in these moments where I'd rather not follow Jesus, give in to whatever my passions are telling me, and blame it on my tiredness or dryness.  

What's worse?  It comes off going to two weeks of "Focus," DiscipleMakers week-long retreat, and of course, we left the week wanting to change the world for Christ!  Merely days later it's hard to even get out of bed and skim a few pages and form a few words.  Save the World?  Hah!  

We dream and imagine being part of God's plan and yet how often after we gain a boost of clarity from retreats, conferences, and spiritual highs, that we crash back down to reality?  The fire inside dried up.  My desire to be more generous is sucked away by my greed.  My desire to reach neighbors for Christ is sucked away by my want of comfort.  

Thank God I don't have to be mastered by my emotions.  

As I've planted in God's Word (even when it's been hard), one of the things I was struck by was a passage in Luke 7, where a woman "of the city" (that's code for prostitute) encounters Jesus.  She goes into a religious leader's house, which would have super scandalous.  She weeps over Jesus' feet and kisses them (That's weird... and gross).  And she breaks an alabaster flask, filled with her ointment (which would have meant everything to her, due to her line of work), and anoints Jesus' feet with it.  

Why?  

The religious leader scoffs at this.  Jesus, however, does not.  He speaks.  And this is what he says: 

"Do you see this woman? I entered your (religious leader's) house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair.  You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet.  You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment.  Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little." (Luke 7:44b-47)

The religious leader does nothing, because he does not see his need for forgiveness.  The woman, however, is deeply moved because she knows her both her need, and the one who fulfills that need.  Her reputation is awful, her line of work is shameful, and she herself is most likely in a very broken state.  She's been used by men.  And here is a man who welcomes her not for her body, but because He chooses to love her.  And she gives up everything.  Presumably, she even gives up her occupation because the ointment she would have used to make herself more attractive has been poured out on a man who has no intention of sleeping with her.   

She realizes how much she has been forgiven.  And in turn, she responds with deep devotion.  

When you are in a dry season, do you run back to the cross to remember your need for forgiveness?  Might that be why you are dry in the first place?  Maybe, like me, as we grow we revert to thinking like the religious leader.  We start to get our acts together, our reputation grows a bit, we do more good deeds.  But who got us to that point?  

Jesus did.  He rescued us from eternal hell and shame, and brought us to Himself.  We must remember how much we have been forgiven, often, if our devotion to Christ is to grow.  

Have you looked recently at the depths of your sin that Jesus has forgiven?

Have you looked freshly upon the Cross of Christ? 

Longing for More

 Author's Note: This post was originally written a few months ago, but thought it was appropriate since I am currently on vacation.  It's a good reminder that Jesus is the one who will give me the sweetest rest, which will help me enjoy our vacation even more!
 
If you looked at my browsing history recently, you would quickly see a repeated pattern. Royalcaribbean.com, carnival.com, disneycruises.com, expedia.com... the list goes on. “When can I get away?” We all dream for some sort of escape, and my guess is, if we all are honest, many of us often wander down the trail of the deep desire for a vacation. And not just any vacation. But the one that tops all other vacations.

At the end of 2014, Heather and I went on a cruise that I looked forward to for a long time. I was especially excited because it was on the largest cruise ship ever built, Royal Caribbean's “Allure of the Seas.” And it was amazing. The food was excellent, the entertainment was top-notch, and the ship itself was mesmorizing. I was amazed that a massive ship could hold so much. It was so impressive that it had it's own take on New York's Central Park, with live plant life and butterflies buzzing in the open center of the ship! With trees planted in front of you and store-fronts on either side, it was easy to forget that you were sailing on a vessel in the middle of the ocean!

Since then, I've gone through waves of wanting to go back on that boat, or another just like it. And not a casual, “it'd be fun to do that again.” Rather, a deep, gripping desire to drop everything and go. I want to experience the wonder again. The freedom to just explore. And the freedom to not have to worry about anything, sit on a lounge chair, and read and think and soak in the sun. I just want to escape.

And yet, while being on the seas can be a good thing (barring running into any icebergs!), this deep desire within me is actually a cry for help. There is something in me that feels this need to escape whatever I don't want to be in at this moment. And while God calls us to be in certain places in certain seasons, I'm struggling to be content. A few of these are:

I don't like being confined to a specific time: I love my job. I love ministry. But I often want to do it on my time-table and my terms. But school is in session at specific times, and God has called me to minister at college campuses. In my right mind, I wouldn't trade it for the world. But my sinful desire longs to trade eternal impact in for a lowly week at sea.

I believe the lie that my kids are a hinderance: I love my kids. I love getting to parent them. But they place restrictions on Heather and I. We can't just leave at the drop of a hat, and if we do want to leave just the two of us, we need to go through a lot of hoops to make sure they will be taken care of. It's not just whether we can find someone to watch them, it's also when they can watch them. Not only that, but in the season of having a newborn, it's nearly impossible to go anywhere without our little JJ for more than a few hours for the next few months. This is frustrating to me sometimes, because it's easy for me to believe that a vacation away from them would be better than spending time with them. I'm not believing that “Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him.” (Psalm 127:3)

I dislike increased responsibility: As I'm getting older, there are more things I'm responsible for, which means less and less “me” time. This can feel like a curse. But the scriptures say differently. In Matthew 25, when Jesus tells the parable of the talents, the reward for the faithful servants is MORE responsibility. I should rejoice in gaining more responsibility, not run away from it.

I fear I'm missing out: This is probably the biggest inward struggle, and is linked to the other three lies from above. “What if I'm missing out on the best thing!” Psalm 16 says, “Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup; you make my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.” This is a helpful reminder that God is my true treasure. And if He has called me to be here and now, then this is what's best. And, through the cross of Christ, I will have a far better paradise to call home than any boat. Because of Christ, I will never miss out on the best thing.

So, I don't need the “perfect” vacation. I don't need to hope that I get to sail once more, and it doesn't need to be now. I can feel free to spend money on a different family vacation and enjoy my children, even if it feels like more work. I can find great joy in the different seasons of life, even when it's a season of hard work, or a season of rest.

Can you relate? Remember, the lines have fallen in pleasant places. And our greatest treasure is Christ. Even if you get time away from the kids. Even if you can take that ideal vacation. Even if you can have a reprieve from all your responsibilities. Jesus will always provide the sweetest rest, and when we trust in Him, He can make even our most fun activities that much more enjoyable, because we've made Jesus the ultimate person who brings ultimate joy.

The Captivity of Anger

As I got home the other night, I found my wife watching "How to Make a Murderer" on Netflix.  I asked her what it was about, and the short-version, at least up to this point in the show, it seems that the local police department was so focused on this one potential perpetrator, they mishandled evidence and testimony so that it all pointed to him, despite the fact that all of it pointed elsewhere.

I was struck by the inaccuracy of their observation, and how they quickly misinterpreted facts.  And yet, when confronted by their mistakes, they refused to acknowledge them, believing they were in the right.

"How could that happen?"  I wondered.

It didn't take long for me to realize how.  I suffered from the same sinful pattern the next night.  I perceived that someone had did something against me.  And within a minute I had a very long, detailed rap sheet scrolling in my head of how this person had wronged me over the past number of years.  And my anger was exacerbated.  I couldn't stop scrolling.  I couldn't stop thinking.  It was so severe that I could not sleep.

As Heather, my wife, asked me questions I raised my voice, accused this person of a number of wrongs, and even wondered, "should I even be friends with this person anymore?"

How could I come to that conclusion in my heart within a matter of minutes?  Easy.  I told myself one story, followed by another, followed by another, until my slight annoyance became a blinding rage.  A friend became a bully.  A fellow believer became a self-centered jerk.  I made myself into a victim.  And I was ready for justice.

Now, there are a number of things that were wrong with this that we could address.  But what struck me was how easy it was to neglect all the good of this person because of my anger.  I knew I wasn't thinking clearly.  I knew I was being unfair.  And for a while, I didn't care.  I wanted to believe my stories, my made-up resume, and give into my rage.  I wanted to be angry.

It was blinding, and I was captive to it.  Forgive?  Why should I?  Love?  Why should I?

"They don't deserve it!"  I would think to myself.

The scriptures argued back, "neither did you."  Checkmate.

How can we be freed from the captivity of anger?  By looking at the King who had every right to be angry, and yet poured His wrath out on the Son for our sake.

Jesus tells a parable that helps us.  In Matthew 18, a man is indebted to his king.  His debt?  10,000 talents.  In modern day American dollars, that's roughly 7 billion dollars!  There's no way that he, a day laborer, could pay that back!  But the king forgives the debt.  Afterwards, the forgiven servant goes and finds someone who owes him 100 denarii, which was roughly one-third of a year's wages.  Think somewhere in the ball park of $10,000-$15,000.  Now, this man could not pay back the forgiven servant, so he had him sent to prison until he could pay it back.

Certainly, this was a large debt.  In some ways, it's understandable that he would be upset.  But how absurd is it that he wouldn't forgive it, knowing how much he had been forgiven?

Jesus tells this parable as a response to a question Peter asks.  "“Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?”  Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy-seven times"" (Matthew 18:21-22)

Do you notice where Peter is going with this?  Peter is saying, "I'm pretty good if I forgive someone seven times, and then I stop loving him, right?"  Jesus responds by saying it's not enough.  He's essentially saying your position and direction are always to forgive.  Why?  Because it's a response to how you've been forgiven!

The Gospel is what can free us from the captivity of anger.  I can forgive someone for a while if I really love them, but sometimes I find myself having the "last straw."  But if I look at how Jesus loved me in spite of my sinfulness, then I really lose any power to be consumed by rage and anger.  I can make the choice to forgive, even when my emotions say otherwise.

It's not easy.  It's not rewarding in the short-term.  But it's life-giving rather than life-taking.  It's freedom, not slavery to the whims of our anger.  It's the freedom that Jesus promised us, and in turn He helps us to engage those who wronged us, spoke ill of us, or persecuted us with love and mercy.  Just as He did with us.

God Doesn't Abandon His Children

I often wonder why God chose me. I don't have much to offer in terms of success or fame, and my track record hasn't been stellar. I probably wrecked our fellowship more than helped it when I was in college. I often struggle to run to God for help. I'm a slow learner and mover. And I often question why God would even want me, with all my faults, mistakes, and quirks.

There's been a history of people walking out of my life, and of all living beings, the God of the Universe should have every right to walk out the door with them. In my self-depricating, pessimistic view, what do I have that would compel God to stay?

But that's the wrong question.

What did God do to ransom sin-sick orphans to Himself? He gave everything.

“In love he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ...” (Ephesians 1:4b-5a) We were orphans, but God adopted us through the death and resurrection of Jesus.

This is why I wept this past Thursday.

In DiscipleMakers, as we promote our staff, we encourage and honor them in front of the whole team. It's an incredible honor. I found out two weeks ago that I was to be promoted. Now, promotions in our ministry aren't like that of the secular workforce. But it does mean I will be entrusted with more responsibility, the reward of faithful stewards.

However, when I found out, after my initial excitement, I was subdued. One of my deep fears was I would get up there, and everyone else would look at me and say, “Why is he there? He's not supposed to be there, what were you thinking!?”

After I and a few others were recognized, we prayed. And the men who prayed for us were men who had invested deeply in me, even when it probably seemed like I was a lost cause. Every reason to walk out on me. And they didn't. They didn't give up when I gave them every reason to. And as we prayed, I realized something else: I gave Jesus every reason to walk out on me...and He refused.

Instead, He began the slow, painful, glorifying process of sanctification, not only affirming my sonship, but making me more and more into the man I am supposed to be, which will culminate in Glory. I'm not the wayward orphan I was in the summer of 2005. I am a valuable son of God.

This is why I wept. My life experience has been that I need to prove myself to find love. And here I was again, feeling this deep inadequacy that I had no right to be honored like this. But God didn't give up on me, doing much to change me over the past ten and a half years. And slowly, surely, I'm reflecting just a bit more of the image of Jesus. And He's not leaving me, ever. He committed to me to the point of death.

God doesn't abandon His children. He's committed to working deeply in our hearts. And even when we don't measure up, God reminds us that our status in the family had nothing to do with our efforts. It has everything to do with what He has done.

Loving Sufferers Well

Author's Note: This post was written before the Orlando nightclub attack, and is mainly from my perspective as a Christian going through suffering.  However, I hope and pray that this might help the body of Christ care for those who have been deeply affected by this, and all, tragic sufferings. 

Community.  It's something we must have as humans.  We were created to build one another up and point one another to God.  To interact with one another, to help us see more of who God is, and help us to know His love.

Other people are not just helpful, they are essential to our lives.  We are dependent on one another, regardless of how independent we want to be.

This rings true as we experience so much love, encouragement, mercy, and relief from our house fire.  Neighbors, friends, and church family have housed us.  We received gifts from family and others to help us with immediate needs.  People have prayed for us, sent encouraging notes, and reminded us of God's love, care, and control in the midst of a hard season.

It is amazing how God uses people to showcase His love!

And sometimes, people can be a reminder of our broken world.  At times, people have not listened well to what is hard.  They have joked at my most raw moments.  They say things that have nothing to do with the emotions that I feel.

It would be tempting to do one of two things as a reader.  One would be to say to me, "Get over yourself."  Another would be to over-empathize and villainize these people.  But neither response is appropriate.  What's more helpful is to recognize the difficulty of loving the one who mourns.

We've all been there, right?  Someone goes through a tragedy, and we are often left at a loss as to what we should say, do, or feel.  Yet we are led to do something, because we were innately created to love one another.  As Christians, that's even more pronounced as we are compelled by God's love through the Gospel to love one another.  However, while the bible shows us everything we need to love, it's more complicated than a chapter in the New Testament about a ten-step process to perfect love for the sufferer. 

We are created uniquely by God, and one of the parts of our uniqueness is how we feel cared for, what we see as needs, and what helps. Two things that have cared for me most are gifts and understanding my struggles.  So when people ask me questions, let me verbally process, and share in my pain, I have felt extremely cared for.  And of course, when someone offers to buy my family and I food or supplies, it has been a very real evidence of God's grace to us.  But when people have spoken too quickly, or have listened but then misunderstood why I'm sad, it's tempting to get angry and lose trust.

But not everyone is like me!  So the application here isn't "don't speak, just listen," or, "just buy supplies."  On the contrary, I think we need to think more broadly before we can appropriately apply how to love the sufferer:

1.  Ask questions of what would help them:  Some people need to verbally process.  Some people need to think and be alone.  Some people want helpful perspectives shared with them.  Some people want you to cry with them, some just want you be near and be silent.  Whether it's your preferred method of helping or not, help in the way they ask you too/not to.

2.  Be patient:  A month in, a lot of my sadness, guilt, and other things have faded.  But just the other day the memories rushed back anew, and I was a mess.  And that's ok.  I processed it later and figured it out, but you and I, when we suffer, don't need to be put back together immediately.  God is making all things new, but on His timing.  Please be patient with those who are suffering.

3.  Speak Tentatively:  It's most likely unhelpful to command or rebuke a sufferer, but don't withhold the scriptures from us either.  "And we urge you, brothers, admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all." (I Thessalonians 5:14) We need encouragement, help, patience, AND truth.  We need Godly perspective.  We need the Scriptures to guide us.  And we don't want to be mastered by our suffering, but by Jesus Christ.   (Note: for non-believers who are suffering, as well as those who are just in very deep pain, keep listening.  Ask if it would be helpful for you to share.  If they say no, don't get frustrated, keep listening and ask again what you can do to help.) 

Quickly, if you are suffering, let me give a couple of quick thoughts on how to be gracious when people don't love you well.

1.  Remember how Jesus was misunderstood:  He was misunderstood on the cross, by the government, by the religious leaders, by his family, and by his disciples and best friends.  And He still died for their sake.  It's a not only a beautiful example, but He gives us the power to be gracious when people fail us.

2.  Get your eyes on others:  Don't let your suffering push you inward.  Instead, let it sober you to realize that while many don't know what you are going through, you don't know what others are going through either.

3.  Overlook what you can, speak up when necessary:  There are a lot of things I've let go because after a few minutes I realize it's not a big deal, and I don't remember it.  Hurts that I dwell on, however, I need to share with the person.  And it's for two reasons; for our own souls, and to help the person learn how to better care for people.

I hope these things are helpful as we seek to care for one another more effectively.  We are God's gifts to one another, and day by day, God will help us to be the community He created us to be.