It must be said that there are time when we actually win—when our desires match up with God's desires, and we get what we want and so does he. Sometimes Christian victory and worldly victory are indistinguishable from the outside, and we get a brief respite from the persistent struggles of life.
What then?
What are we supposed to do when we win?
Easy:
Celebrate! Give thanks—to God, and to others. But don't be fooled into thinking everything will be okay afterwards, that you won't have to fight for something else.
Because—remember—the victory you've just experienced isn't ultimate victory. It's only a momentary victory in the present.
So enjoy it. But don't let it go to your head. Let it, instead, take root in your spirit and become a marker in your spiritual journey—a piton—a position of contentment and godliness from which you never slide back.
Friday, April 06, 2012
Thursday, April 05, 2012
He Scores, You Win
In football, you block for the runner. He scores. You win.
In racing, you box and trap for the lead car. He crosses the finish line first. You win.
In baseball, you fly and the runner crosses home. He scores. You win.
In spirituality, the principle is much the same: you have to get out of the way so Christ can win in you. You have to sacrifice your earthly desires in order for God's desires to manifest in your life (see Romans 8). In order for you to have victory, you must decrease and let him increase (John 3.30). You must become less, so he can become more (see Galatians 5.16-26).
But, in real life, this is often hard to do. It's hard to figure out precisely how to get out of the way or let go and let God. For example, despite the fact that I want God to rule over my desires, it's still tricky to remember to ask, "God, what do you want me to do in this situation?" every time my daughter smears crayon on the carpet. My parenting instincts take over (which God gave me, by the way), and my frustration takes over (which isn't necessarily sinful, by the way), and I tend to react quickly with a reprimand and an appropriate punishment.
And yet, those few times I've been able to slow my reaction long enough to breathe a quick prayer or find a short moment of respite from life's relentless pace, I'm consistently surprised to find God speaks to me and instructs me to do something other than follow my instincts or act like I usually do. Again, it's not that I'm always acting badly; it's simply that he wants me to act better. I don't know how to be better than I am all alone, so he sends his Spirit to teach and guide me. All I have to do is listen and obey.
Attentiveness to the Spirit and obedience to the Father are crucial components for living a victorious Christian life. They don't come easily, or even naturally. They must be learned. We must discipline ourselves to hear from God, to ask God for wisdom, and to discern the will of God in everyday circumstances, before we merely blunder on as we always have.
"Wait a minute," some might say right about now. "Are you suggesting we check with God about absolutely everything? How could there even possibly be time?"
Yes. That's exactly what I'm recommending. And yes, you're right. There's isn't time. But that's precisely the point. We're all so out of practice, it takes a long time and a remarkable amount of discipline to hear from God on anything.
Which is why we need to attend to him that much more.
We have to prioritize him in everything, so that in everything we have the victory in Jesus' name. It might cost some time, but (all things being equal) time is a pretty small sacrifice. If we’re ever going to live in victory, we’ll have to make some sacrifices and take some risks.
What risks are we willing to take to ensure he wins in us? Will we block sin by spending extra time in prayer or studying the Bible? Will we decide now to avoid temptation by not visiting the places and the people that facilitate our worst vices?
Ask God for answers to these questions. And for anything else.
He'll give them, and you'll benefit in turn.
He grows. We win.
In racing, you box and trap for the lead car. He crosses the finish line first. You win.
In baseball, you fly and the runner crosses home. He scores. You win.
In spirituality, the principle is much the same: you have to get out of the way so Christ can win in you. You have to sacrifice your earthly desires in order for God's desires to manifest in your life (see Romans 8). In order for you to have victory, you must decrease and let him increase (John 3.30). You must become less, so he can become more (see Galatians 5.16-26).
But, in real life, this is often hard to do. It's hard to figure out precisely how to get out of the way or let go and let God. For example, despite the fact that I want God to rule over my desires, it's still tricky to remember to ask, "God, what do you want me to do in this situation?" every time my daughter smears crayon on the carpet. My parenting instincts take over (which God gave me, by the way), and my frustration takes over (which isn't necessarily sinful, by the way), and I tend to react quickly with a reprimand and an appropriate punishment.
And yet, those few times I've been able to slow my reaction long enough to breathe a quick prayer or find a short moment of respite from life's relentless pace, I'm consistently surprised to find God speaks to me and instructs me to do something other than follow my instincts or act like I usually do. Again, it's not that I'm always acting badly; it's simply that he wants me to act better. I don't know how to be better than I am all alone, so he sends his Spirit to teach and guide me. All I have to do is listen and obey.
Attentiveness to the Spirit and obedience to the Father are crucial components for living a victorious Christian life. They don't come easily, or even naturally. They must be learned. We must discipline ourselves to hear from God, to ask God for wisdom, and to discern the will of God in everyday circumstances, before we merely blunder on as we always have.
"Wait a minute," some might say right about now. "Are you suggesting we check with God about absolutely everything? How could there even possibly be time?"
Yes. That's exactly what I'm recommending. And yes, you're right. There's isn't time. But that's precisely the point. We're all so out of practice, it takes a long time and a remarkable amount of discipline to hear from God on anything.
Which is why we need to attend to him that much more.
We have to prioritize him in everything, so that in everything we have the victory in Jesus' name. It might cost some time, but (all things being equal) time is a pretty small sacrifice. If we’re ever going to live in victory, we’ll have to make some sacrifices and take some risks.
What risks are we willing to take to ensure he wins in us? Will we block sin by spending extra time in prayer or studying the Bible? Will we decide now to avoid temptation by not visiting the places and the people that facilitate our worst vices?
Ask God for answers to these questions. And for anything else.
He'll give them, and you'll benefit in turn.
He grows. We win.
Wednesday, April 04, 2012
You Win Even When You Lose
Our church is artistic. It comes out in the decor, in the aesthetics, in the choices we make about music and presentation and style. Everyone who walks in the door knows it immediately. But for non-artists, our preoccupation with aesthetics can be confusing. Especially since we tend to stay away from things that are too thematic.
For example, if we were talking about money, we would never use a financially-themed design scheme (dollar signs on the screens or bills on the wall, etc.). Themes are too one-dimensional. And, when people come to church, we're trying to give the Spirit all kinds of avenues to speak to them. If they're really concerned with money right then, the dollar sign motif wouldn't hurt a bit. But if money doesn’t concern them at the moment, everything about a dollar-sign-laden aesthetic subtly communicates "this isn't for you…this doesn't matter…you don't really care."
To be fair, I'm overstating for effect.
But the point remains. We try for abstract aesthetics so people can look around and say, "Gee … I wonder what that means?"
Not too long ago a woman came up and introduced herself after the Cue. She was recently divorced and left in shambles after the termination of her marriage. A friend had suggested she visit our church, claiming "whenever God shuts a door, he opens a window."
I'm not entirely sure what that was supposed to mean in those circumstances, but this woman took that message to heart and began to pray earnestly, "Oh God, please give me a window. All I need is a window. Please … a window."
When she arrived at our church that Sunday she was driven to her knees and flooded with tears. Care to guess why?
We have windows hanging from our rafters in the auditorium. Just windows, going nowhere, showing nothing. Just hanging. Why? We hung them because we thought it looked cool. But really, God had something else in mind. He foreordained that aesthetic, and that woman, in that moment, so he could remind her that our past failures should never be considered in isolation. The past is not the finale. It's just the past. And even after we've failed, there's still hope.
There are open windows.
The great truth of the Christian gospel is that you can win even when you lose; you can have victory even when you're defeated. Because it's not just about the outcome of each circumstance but also about the work of God in you. This woman now understands that, even though her marriage has ended, God has not given up on her. She experienced a small victory in church that day—a victory of hope over despair, of promise over shame, of love over rejection, of family over isolation.
That's a pretty good scorecard for failure, as long as we remember our past is a window into God's better future.
For example, if we were talking about money, we would never use a financially-themed design scheme (dollar signs on the screens or bills on the wall, etc.). Themes are too one-dimensional. And, when people come to church, we're trying to give the Spirit all kinds of avenues to speak to them. If they're really concerned with money right then, the dollar sign motif wouldn't hurt a bit. But if money doesn’t concern them at the moment, everything about a dollar-sign-laden aesthetic subtly communicates "this isn't for you…this doesn't matter…you don't really care."
To be fair, I'm overstating for effect.
But the point remains. We try for abstract aesthetics so people can look around and say, "Gee … I wonder what that means?"
Not too long ago a woman came up and introduced herself after the Cue. She was recently divorced and left in shambles after the termination of her marriage. A friend had suggested she visit our church, claiming "whenever God shuts a door, he opens a window."
I'm not entirely sure what that was supposed to mean in those circumstances, but this woman took that message to heart and began to pray earnestly, "Oh God, please give me a window. All I need is a window. Please … a window."
When she arrived at our church that Sunday she was driven to her knees and flooded with tears. Care to guess why?
We have windows hanging from our rafters in the auditorium. Just windows, going nowhere, showing nothing. Just hanging. Why? We hung them because we thought it looked cool. But really, God had something else in mind. He foreordained that aesthetic, and that woman, in that moment, so he could remind her that our past failures should never be considered in isolation. The past is not the finale. It's just the past. And even after we've failed, there's still hope.
There are open windows.
The great truth of the Christian gospel is that you can win even when you lose; you can have victory even when you're defeated. Because it's not just about the outcome of each circumstance but also about the work of God in you. This woman now understands that, even though her marriage has ended, God has not given up on her. She experienced a small victory in church that day—a victory of hope over despair, of promise over shame, of love over rejection, of family over isolation.
That's a pretty good scorecard for failure, as long as we remember our past is a window into God's better future.
Tuesday, April 03, 2012
Nobody's Compatible
Last month I had a couple come to me at the church for marriage counseling. Though I'm not a professional counselor, I do meet with couples from time to time to try to assist them in the spiritual components of their relationship. Of course, in my mind it's all spiritual, but they don't usually agree until after we've met.
I digress.
After describing their many problems, the couple informed me that they thought their only option was divorce. They did have problems, and many of those problems had become severe, but to me nothing they described sounded insurmountable. I told them as much, but they were unwavering. They felt like they had to get a divorce because, in the end, they simply weren't compatible.
I hear that idea often: incompatibility. It seems to be one of our favorite excuses for losing in life and avoiding victory like the plague.
We can't work together because our management styles are incompatible.
We can't attend the same church any longer because our worship preferences aren't compatible.
We can't stay married because we're sexually incompatible.
The truth is no two people on earth are compatible. You might get along with some folks better than others, more effortlessly than others, for longer than others, but your differences will always swell to an eventual incompatibility.
Nobody gets along for long unless they’re willing to renew their minds. If you're going to experience victory in your relationships with other people, you must be willing to die to your own desires, your own preferences, and your own ego. You've got to put the sinful nature to death and invite the Spirit to change the way you think and the way you live.
This couple wasn't compatible, but they could have been. If, by renewing the mind, the husband learns to love his wife in such a way that she feels valued, secure, and esteemed, and the wife learns to love her husband without trying to boss him around or nag him about the house, then the marriage will start working.
What you have to understand is that—whether in business, or marriage, or friendship—there is no victory without Christ.
You will always sabotage yourself. You will always, at the root, be “incompatible” with others. You will always defeat yourself. Because you need him to win.
I digress.
After describing their many problems, the couple informed me that they thought their only option was divorce. They did have problems, and many of those problems had become severe, but to me nothing they described sounded insurmountable. I told them as much, but they were unwavering. They felt like they had to get a divorce because, in the end, they simply weren't compatible.
I hear that idea often: incompatibility. It seems to be one of our favorite excuses for losing in life and avoiding victory like the plague.
We can't work together because our management styles are incompatible.
We can't attend the same church any longer because our worship preferences aren't compatible.
We can't stay married because we're sexually incompatible.
The truth is no two people on earth are compatible. You might get along with some folks better than others, more effortlessly than others, for longer than others, but your differences will always swell to an eventual incompatibility.
Nobody gets along for long unless they’re willing to renew their minds. If you're going to experience victory in your relationships with other people, you must be willing to die to your own desires, your own preferences, and your own ego. You've got to put the sinful nature to death and invite the Spirit to change the way you think and the way you live.
This couple wasn't compatible, but they could have been. If, by renewing the mind, the husband learns to love his wife in such a way that she feels valued, secure, and esteemed, and the wife learns to love her husband without trying to boss him around or nag him about the house, then the marriage will start working.
What you have to understand is that—whether in business, or marriage, or friendship—there is no victory without Christ.
You will always sabotage yourself. You will always, at the root, be “incompatible” with others. You will always defeat yourself. Because you need him to win.
Monday, April 02, 2012
God's Wants
Our culture simply cannot see the sense in following God:
Let's not wait for a solid relationship to grow. Let's have sex now!
Why get married? Let's just live together. It'll be easier.
Solving problems is too hard. Let's just get divorced.
Proper diet and exercise take too long. I need a pill.
Saving money is hard work. I need another credit card.
Children are too much responsibility. I'm having an abortion.
In all these situations and many more besides, our culture thinks of God's prohibitions as restrictive (at best) or (at worst) intolerant, controlling, and merciless.
But those who cry out against God's instruction have forgotten one very important fact: God wants what he wants because it's best.
It's best for us. It's best for others. It's best for the world.
Think about it. If you built something you loved, you'd do everything in your power to protect it and preserve it and enjoy it. I once built my own drum set. It wasn't the best or the fanciest, but it was mine. I still have it, nearly three decades later, and hope to give it to my daughter once she can reach the pedals. I'm terribly proud of it, and any rules I have concerning it are to [a] protect my drums, so I can [b] give them to my daughter.
Rules are for protection, in one direction or another.
God loves the world and so he sets us in charge of looking after it. God loves us and so he gives us rationality and instruction to help us enjoy the best life possible. God gives us freedom to enjoy the world and to enjoy one another and to enjoy him. Any restrictions he places on our freedom are in service to our health and well-being.
Thou shalt not kill isn't really such a bad idea, is it? How about thou shalt not steal? Well, that's not so bad either. I certainly don't want anyone taking my stuff, so it stands to reason that I shouldn't take theirs. Thou shalt not commit adultery. Not with my wife, you won't!
You get the point.
God knows how to live because he invented life. God wants what he wants because it's best—for us, for others, for the world. Though it may not feel best now, it will ultimately be proven best.
You might think about it this way: What God wants from us results in what he wants for us.
What does God want from us? Obedience.
What does God want for us? Life. Happiness. Peace. Love. Relationship. Fulfillment. Meaning. Satisfaction. Laughter.
There is a word that sums up everything God wants for his people. That word is blessing.
What God wants from us (obedience) results in what he wants for us (blessing).
Concerning marriage, God wants (fidelity, honesty, self-sacrifice, responsibility, love, passion, romance) which results in (longevity, intimacy, knowledge, unity, family, security).
Concerning children, God wants (instruction, admonition, encouragement, care) which results in (closeness, admiration, responsiveness, friendship, love).
Concerning business, God wants (skill, management, integrity) which results in (good reputation, increased revenue, skilled employees).
When I'm obedient, the natural result is blessing. Sometimes, of course, other things get in the way of that blessing. Someone else's disobedience, for example, can compromise the natural result of my obedience. The thief prevents the honest, hardworking, responsible man from enjoying his fortune. We cannot totally escape these extenuating circumstances, not in this life.
But don't let that overshadow the basic biblical truth that, by and large, when we live life the way God intends, we get to enjoy the life God intended.
Let's not wait for a solid relationship to grow. Let's have sex now!
Why get married? Let's just live together. It'll be easier.
Solving problems is too hard. Let's just get divorced.
Proper diet and exercise take too long. I need a pill.
Saving money is hard work. I need another credit card.
Children are too much responsibility. I'm having an abortion.
In all these situations and many more besides, our culture thinks of God's prohibitions as restrictive (at best) or (at worst) intolerant, controlling, and merciless.
But those who cry out against God's instruction have forgotten one very important fact: God wants what he wants because it's best.
It's best for us. It's best for others. It's best for the world.
Think about it. If you built something you loved, you'd do everything in your power to protect it and preserve it and enjoy it. I once built my own drum set. It wasn't the best or the fanciest, but it was mine. I still have it, nearly three decades later, and hope to give it to my daughter once she can reach the pedals. I'm terribly proud of it, and any rules I have concerning it are to [a] protect my drums, so I can [b] give them to my daughter.
Rules are for protection, in one direction or another.
God loves the world and so he sets us in charge of looking after it. God loves us and so he gives us rationality and instruction to help us enjoy the best life possible. God gives us freedom to enjoy the world and to enjoy one another and to enjoy him. Any restrictions he places on our freedom are in service to our health and well-being.
Thou shalt not kill isn't really such a bad idea, is it? How about thou shalt not steal? Well, that's not so bad either. I certainly don't want anyone taking my stuff, so it stands to reason that I shouldn't take theirs. Thou shalt not commit adultery. Not with my wife, you won't!
You get the point.
God knows how to live because he invented life. God wants what he wants because it's best—for us, for others, for the world. Though it may not feel best now, it will ultimately be proven best.
You might think about it this way: What God wants from us results in what he wants for us.
What does God want from us? Obedience.
What does God want for us? Life. Happiness. Peace. Love. Relationship. Fulfillment. Meaning. Satisfaction. Laughter.
There is a word that sums up everything God wants for his people. That word is blessing.
What God wants from us (obedience) results in what he wants for us (blessing).
Concerning marriage, God wants (fidelity, honesty, self-sacrifice, responsibility, love, passion, romance) which results in (longevity, intimacy, knowledge, unity, family, security).
Concerning children, God wants (instruction, admonition, encouragement, care) which results in (closeness, admiration, responsiveness, friendship, love).
Concerning business, God wants (skill, management, integrity) which results in (good reputation, increased revenue, skilled employees).
When I'm obedient, the natural result is blessing. Sometimes, of course, other things get in the way of that blessing. Someone else's disobedience, for example, can compromise the natural result of my obedience. The thief prevents the honest, hardworking, responsible man from enjoying his fortune. We cannot totally escape these extenuating circumstances, not in this life.
But don't let that overshadow the basic biblical truth that, by and large, when we live life the way God intends, we get to enjoy the life God intended.
Sunday, April 01, 2012
Kinds of Victory
In the 1997 film Life is Beautiful, we are introduced to Jewish father Guido Orefice and his son Giosue. They have been separated from Dora, Guido's wife and Giosue's mother, in a concentration camp during the Second World War, and the movie tells the story of how Guido helps Giosue cope with the tragedy, pain, and loss of Nazi persecution.
They play a game.
Unwilling to give up on his son's innocence or to turn his back on laughter, Guido convinces his boy that the entire camp is a live-action role-playing game. The guards are the opposition, the prisoners are the heroes, and the grand prize for winning is a tank.
**Spoiler alert**
Guido dies during the internment, but Giosue survives and is reunited with his mother. She sees him, at the end of the film, riding in the middle of a parade of American soldiers.
On a tank.
Here is a redemptive work of art that layers (military) victory on top of (family) victory on top of (paternal) victory on top of (ideological) victory on top of (circumstantial) victory.
The Allies win and the Axis loses.
The mother is reunited with her son.
The father protects his boy.
Laughter and hope persist in the face of cruelty and war.
The future is born out of past ashes, and what once was fantasy has now become the present reality.
If you were to have asked someone at the beginning of World War Two what victory would look like, most would have responded with something about their side winning. A few would have spoken about peace. A few more, likely, would have spoken about preserving their souls, or their goodness, in the midst of the ugliness of bloodshed.
But no one would have guessed at a game for a boy with a tank for a prize.
And this is my point: there are an inexhaustible number of ways to win. Victory is defined by who you are in the midst of the struggle and what you choose to create with what you have in front of you.
Don't quit. But don't just try to survive either. Don't forget about the things that make victory worth having: laughter, family, hope, ideals. Because keeping those is victory all on its own.
They play a game.
Unwilling to give up on his son's innocence or to turn his back on laughter, Guido convinces his boy that the entire camp is a live-action role-playing game. The guards are the opposition, the prisoners are the heroes, and the grand prize for winning is a tank.
**Spoiler alert**
Guido dies during the internment, but Giosue survives and is reunited with his mother. She sees him, at the end of the film, riding in the middle of a parade of American soldiers.
On a tank.
Here is a redemptive work of art that layers (military) victory on top of (family) victory on top of (paternal) victory on top of (ideological) victory on top of (circumstantial) victory.
The Allies win and the Axis loses.
The mother is reunited with her son.
The father protects his boy.
Laughter and hope persist in the face of cruelty and war.
The future is born out of past ashes, and what once was fantasy has now become the present reality.
If you were to have asked someone at the beginning of World War Two what victory would look like, most would have responded with something about their side winning. A few would have spoken about peace. A few more, likely, would have spoken about preserving their souls, or their goodness, in the midst of the ugliness of bloodshed.
But no one would have guessed at a game for a boy with a tank for a prize.
And this is my point: there are an inexhaustible number of ways to win. Victory is defined by who you are in the midst of the struggle and what you choose to create with what you have in front of you.
Don't quit. But don't just try to survive either. Don't forget about the things that make victory worth having: laughter, family, hope, ideals. Because keeping those is victory all on its own.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Foothold
Every time evil doesn't get a foothold in our lives, we win.
Sometimes bad things happen to us, and we are hurt or betrayed or savaged by life. But there is a difference between being harmed and being ruined. Harm comes to everyone, but Christian people find victory in Christ to avoid utter ruin. It is Christ who sustains us, delivers us, buoys us, and restores us to our full humanity such that we can say, “I'm devastated, but not bitter (even though I should be) because of what Christ has done for me.”
This is what I mean by keeping Satan from getting a foothold. Bitterness is a foothold. It is a cancer that eats your soul from the inside out. You will certainly be harmed in this life. That's the bad news. But the good news is that harm doesn't have to ruin you. If you welcome the Spirit and invite him to heal you from the inside out, you can gain wisdom and understanding and even some spiritual health. But if you refuse, and allow that harm to rot and fester in your spirit, then you will turn bitter. That bitterness—far more than the original harm itself—will ruin you.
You achieve victory when you refuse to be bitter.
Here's a three-part reminder I use to remember how this works and identify the ways Christ is winning in me:
I'm a _________, even though I should be ________ because I can see ________.
I'm a (forgiver, peacemaker, friend), even though I should be (resentful, vengeful, hostile) because I can see (Christ's healing power, Christ's eternal joy, Christ's peace that passes all understanding).
Rachel was a little girl in our church who died of cancer before her tenth birthday. Her father, Frank, had every right to be angry and bitter. He had prayed and begged God to heal his daughter and God had not. None of us understood why not, least of all Frank, but Frank understood that Rachel's suffering was over, and she was now in the presence of Jesus. Frank understood that Rachel had already received her (final) victory. Understanding that was Frank's victory. Refusing to be angry with God, question God, or distance himself from God was further victory in Frank's life. As a result, nearly two decades later, I can testify to the fact that Frank is one of the most profoundly happy and generous people I've ever met. But he had every right to be reclusive and miserable. The difference was that Frank chose not to exercise his right to unhappiness, but to claim victory in and with and through Christ.
He refused to let the devil get a foothold, and as a result he has a life most everyone would envy. That life didn't come easily, but Frank was faithful and disciplined, mindful of who God is and what he's done and—focused on that—it was more than enough for everyone to win in the end.
Sometimes bad things happen to us, and we are hurt or betrayed or savaged by life. But there is a difference between being harmed and being ruined. Harm comes to everyone, but Christian people find victory in Christ to avoid utter ruin. It is Christ who sustains us, delivers us, buoys us, and restores us to our full humanity such that we can say, “I'm devastated, but not bitter (even though I should be) because of what Christ has done for me.”
This is what I mean by keeping Satan from getting a foothold. Bitterness is a foothold. It is a cancer that eats your soul from the inside out. You will certainly be harmed in this life. That's the bad news. But the good news is that harm doesn't have to ruin you. If you welcome the Spirit and invite him to heal you from the inside out, you can gain wisdom and understanding and even some spiritual health. But if you refuse, and allow that harm to rot and fester in your spirit, then you will turn bitter. That bitterness—far more than the original harm itself—will ruin you.
You achieve victory when you refuse to be bitter.
Here's a three-part reminder I use to remember how this works and identify the ways Christ is winning in me:
I'm a _________, even though I should be ________ because I can see ________.
I'm a (forgiver, peacemaker, friend), even though I should be (resentful, vengeful, hostile) because I can see (Christ's healing power, Christ's eternal joy, Christ's peace that passes all understanding).
Rachel was a little girl in our church who died of cancer before her tenth birthday. Her father, Frank, had every right to be angry and bitter. He had prayed and begged God to heal his daughter and God had not. None of us understood why not, least of all Frank, but Frank understood that Rachel's suffering was over, and she was now in the presence of Jesus. Frank understood that Rachel had already received her (final) victory. Understanding that was Frank's victory. Refusing to be angry with God, question God, or distance himself from God was further victory in Frank's life. As a result, nearly two decades later, I can testify to the fact that Frank is one of the most profoundly happy and generous people I've ever met. But he had every right to be reclusive and miserable. The difference was that Frank chose not to exercise his right to unhappiness, but to claim victory in and with and through Christ.
He refused to let the devil get a foothold, and as a result he has a life most everyone would envy. That life didn't come easily, but Frank was faithful and disciplined, mindful of who God is and what he's done and—focused on that—it was more than enough for everyone to win in the end.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Levels of Biblical Interpretation
Found this while trolling today, a simple summary of an ancient concept.
| THE RULES OF PARDES |
INTRODUCTION
The modern manner of interpreting Biblical text is commonly called exegesis. This method concerns itself mostly with the literary and grammatical context of Scripture verses. Practitioners of exegesis sometimes view anything beyond the literal text as "isogesis" and often pay it little heed to it, or regard it with suspicion. This is an unfortunate error, a result of a backlash against improper allegorizing of the Scriptures, resulting in a case where "the baby is thrown out with the bathwater."
With regard to the proper understanding of the Hebrew Scriptures in their proper context, including the "New Testament" books, there are in fact "levels" of interpretation that must be taken into consideration. This was the method used to write and interpret Scripture by the authors themselves as well as the audience of their time and culture.
THE RULES OF PARDES INTERPRETATION *
The four level of interpretation are called: Parshat, Remez, D’rash & Sud. The first letter of each word P-R-D-S is taken, and vowels are added for pronunciation, giving the word PARDES (meaning "garden" or "orchard"). Each layer is deeper and more intense than the last, like the layers of an onion.
P'shat (pronounced peh-shaht' - meaning "simple")
The p'shat is the plain, simple meaning of the text. The understanding of scripture in its natural, normal sense using the customary meanings of the word’s being used, literary style, historical and cultural setting, and context. The p'shat is the keystone of Scripture understanding. If we discard the p'shat we lose any real chance of an accurate understanding and we are no longer objectively deriving meaning from the Scriptures (exegesis), but subjectively reading meaning into the scriptures (eisogesis). The Talmud states that no passage loses its p'shat:
Talmud Shabbat 63a - Rabbi Kahana objected to Mar son of Rabbi Huna: But this refers to the words of the Torah? A verse cannot depart from its plain meaning, he replied.
Note that within the p'shat you can find several types of language, including figurative, symbolic and allegorical. The following generic guidelines can be used to determine if a passage is figurative and therefore figurative even in its p'shat:
- When an inanimate object is used to describe a living being, the statement is figurative. Example: Isaiah 5:7 - For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel, and the men of Judah his pleasant plant; and he looked for judgment, but behold oppression; for righteousness, but behold a cry.
- When life and action are attributed to an inanimate object the statement is figurative. Example: Zechariah 5:1-3 - Then I turned, and lifted up my eyes, and looked, and behold a flying scroll. And he said to me, What do you see? And I answered, I see a flying scroll; its length is twenty cubits, and its width ten cubits. And he said to me, This is the curse that goes out over the face of the whole earth; for everyone who steals shall be cut off henceforth, according to it; and everyone who swears falsely shall be cut off henceforth, according to it.
- When an expression is out of character with the thing described, the statement is figurative. Example: Psalm 17:8 - Keep me as the apple of the eye, hide me under the shadow of your wings ...
Remez (pronounced reh-mez' - meaning "hint")
This is where another (implied) meaning is alluded to in the text, usually revealling a deeper meaning. There may still be a p'shat meaning as well as another meaning as any verse can have multiple levels of meaning. An example of implied "REMEZ" Proverbs 20:10 -Different weights, and different measures, both of them are alike an abomination to the Lord.The p'shat would be concerned with a merchant using the same scale to weigh goods for all of his customers. The remez implies that this goes beyond this into aspects of fairness and honesty in anyone's life.
D’rash (pronounced deh-rahsh' also called "Midrash," meaning "concept")
This is a teaching or exposition or application of the P'shat and/or Remez. (In some cases this could be considered comparable to a "sermon.") For instance, Biblical writers may take two or more unrelated verses and combine them to create a verse(s) with a third meaning.
There are three rules to consider when utilizing the d'rash interpretation of a text:
- A drash understanding can not be used to strip a passage of its p'shat meaning, nor may any such understanding contradict the p'shat meaning of any other scripture passage. As the Talmud states, "No passage loses its p'shat."
- Let scripture interpret scripture. Look for the scriptures themselves to define the components of an allegory.
- The primary components of an allegory represent specific realities. We should limit ourselves to these primary components when understanding the text.
Sud (pronounced either sawd, or sood [like "wood"] - meaning "hidden")
This understanding is the hidden, secret or mystic meaning of a text. An example most people are familiar with is Revelation 13:18, regarding the "beast" and the number "666."
EXAMPLES OF PARDES FROM MATTHEW
Examples of the Remez, D'rash and Sud, can be found in Matthew as follows. (Of course the p'shat is throughout the text.) Without knowledge and application of the rules of PARDES, these verses would either not make sense or indicate an error on the part of the author:
- Remez
- Matthew 2:15 - "Out of Egypt I called my son." This is a quote from Hosea 11:1 that Matthew is applying to Yeshua. If we stuck to a literal exegesis only and researched the quote, we would have to accuse Matthew of improperly using Scripture, as Hosea is clearly speaking of the nation of Israel, and not the Messiah. Matthew however, is hinting (a remez) at the relationship between Israel and the Messiah, in this and other verses he uses.
- D'rash
- Matthew 18:18 - "... Whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven" This is a verse that has been interpreted in numerous (incorrect) ways due to a lack of understanding that this ad'rash concerning decisions one makes in their personal "walk with God" (called your"halakha" in Hebrew/Judaism).
- Sud
- Matthew 26:28 - "Then He took the cup, gave thanks and offered it to them saying, Drink from it all of you, This is my blood ..." Taken literally this verse verse would not only be a violation of the Torah commandment against consuming blood, but along with other verses about eating Yeshua's flesh (John 6:51-56), could be grounds for accusations of cannibalism. There is a far deeper, more mystical meaning here however(the sud), even one that those who heard Him did not understand (John 6:52).
Sympathizer
Because God sympathizes with us and wants us to experience his power and dignity and image alive and at work in us, he becomes one of us and shows us how it’s done. God desires to proclaim men as victors, so he becomes one and wins. Christ destroyed death, brought an end to sin, abolished corruption, banished ignorance, manifested life, declared truth, and bestowed incorruption.
Of particular importance to those who claim God is unjust, or unfair, is the means through which God accomplished his victory. He could have accomplished it by force, wresting lordship away from Satan mano a mano, but then the devil would have had cause for complaint. After all, the disobedience of Adam resulted in the abdication of humanity's dominion over the earth. Satan had rightly and justly won his lordship, and God would have had to either cheat, break his own rules, or bully Satan in order to get it back.
No—in order to be just, God had to win back the lordship over the world. And the only way he could win back what humanity had lost was to become human himself. So he did. Thus the disobedience of Adam was undone by the obedience of Christ.
Obedience was the means of his triumph and ours.
We could never have escaped the devil's dominion without the victory of Christ on the cross. The passion of Christ brings us courage and power. He, through his passion, ascended on high, made captivity captive, gave gifts to men, and gave us power.
What is the nature of that power? According to the Second Testament, it is power to rule (Revelation 1.6), power to overcome evil (Ephesians 6.10), power to defeat the agents of the enemy (Luke 10.19), power to witness (Acts 1.8), power to perform miracles (Acts 6.8), power to demolish strongholds (2 Corinthians 12.9), and power for the new creation (1 Corinthians 15.43).
But we can only have this power because Christ has won it back for us. He has "tied up the strongman" (Matthew 12.29), carried off what the devil once owned, and given it back to God's people.
God could have cheated, but instead he allowed his divine wisdom to be put on display, making a show of those dark powers and returning humanity to its former, God-given, glory.
Of particular importance to those who claim God is unjust, or unfair, is the means through which God accomplished his victory. He could have accomplished it by force, wresting lordship away from Satan mano a mano, but then the devil would have had cause for complaint. After all, the disobedience of Adam resulted in the abdication of humanity's dominion over the earth. Satan had rightly and justly won his lordship, and God would have had to either cheat, break his own rules, or bully Satan in order to get it back.
No—in order to be just, God had to win back the lordship over the world. And the only way he could win back what humanity had lost was to become human himself. So he did. Thus the disobedience of Adam was undone by the obedience of Christ.
Obedience was the means of his triumph and ours.
We could never have escaped the devil's dominion without the victory of Christ on the cross. The passion of Christ brings us courage and power. He, through his passion, ascended on high, made captivity captive, gave gifts to men, and gave us power.
What is the nature of that power? According to the Second Testament, it is power to rule (Revelation 1.6), power to overcome evil (Ephesians 6.10), power to defeat the agents of the enemy (Luke 10.19), power to witness (Acts 1.8), power to perform miracles (Acts 6.8), power to demolish strongholds (2 Corinthians 12.9), and power for the new creation (1 Corinthians 15.43).
But we can only have this power because Christ has won it back for us. He has "tied up the strongman" (Matthew 12.29), carried off what the devil once owned, and given it back to God's people.
God could have cheated, but instead he allowed his divine wisdom to be put on display, making a show of those dark powers and returning humanity to its former, God-given, glory.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Scapegoat
Have you ever heard of a scapegoat?
In philosophy, a scapegoat is someone everyone else decides to blame for all their troubles. If you imagine a pre-industrialized village where all the babies keep dying of a rare influenza, then you might easily imagine the kind of panic and anxiety felt by those villagers. Having tried everything to get rid of the contagion, they find they cannot, and the babies keep dying. The villagers come to think the problem must be more than the flu, and so they single out poor Edith Sunshine. Edith is new to town, young, and pretty. The men have certainly noticed Edith, which means the women have, too. Suddenly, someone realizes the babies took sick sometime (roughly) around Edith's arrival. She must be a witch! Burn her! And so they do, and for a while they are content to believe the problem has been solved.
At least, until the next baby dies, at which point they'll have to find a new Edith.
The term scapegoat has biblical origins, rooted in the Day of Atonement rituals as described in Leviticus 16. Once each year, the high priest would confess all the sins of Israel to a goat. The sins were transferred to the goat, so to speak, and it was driven into the wilderness. Thus Israel was cleansed.
A scapegoat, then, is one who takes on the sins of others. Biblically, this referred not only to the cultic ritual described above, but also to the sacrificial death of Christ on the cross. He is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world (John 1.29), for he has carried our sorrows (Isaiah 53.4) and become sin for us (2 Corinthians 5.21).
The point I'd like to make is that Jesus was the last scapegoat. He was blamed for the sins of all in both the philosophical sense (others blamed him) and the theological sense (he willingly accepted that blame). The reason he was the last scapegoat, the final one we ever need recognize, is that his death was not the end of the story. Jesus was resurrected into new life, conquering death, and in so doing, he exposed the violent scapegoating tendencies in the human heart and forced us to realize precisely how much evil we are truly capable of performing. Faced with our own complicity to sacrifice others for our benefit, as though we were looking into a mirror showing us how morally hideous we have become, we recoil from our sinful nature and embrace God and his plan to heal the world. Jesus' victory, then, is the starting point for his present work in the world, where—through his Spirit—he continues to triumphantly break down sin's power and deify men.
Through Christ, we are called more than conquerors (see Romans 8). We are not simply beneficiaries of his victory, but participants in his war on sin, both internally, in our own hearts against our own sinful nature, and externally, against the powers of darkness arrayed in the world. What does this mean for us?
Two things, initially. First, we must refuse to blame others—especially God—for the sins (and their consequences) we have personally performed. No one got us into the mess we're in but us. The good news is God will help us get out of it. Second, we must thank God for his mercy in this regard and endeavor to assist him in all possible ways, so evil is uprooted both internally and externally as quickly and as thoroughly as possible.
In philosophy, a scapegoat is someone everyone else decides to blame for all their troubles. If you imagine a pre-industrialized village where all the babies keep dying of a rare influenza, then you might easily imagine the kind of panic and anxiety felt by those villagers. Having tried everything to get rid of the contagion, they find they cannot, and the babies keep dying. The villagers come to think the problem must be more than the flu, and so they single out poor Edith Sunshine. Edith is new to town, young, and pretty. The men have certainly noticed Edith, which means the women have, too. Suddenly, someone realizes the babies took sick sometime (roughly) around Edith's arrival. She must be a witch! Burn her! And so they do, and for a while they are content to believe the problem has been solved.
At least, until the next baby dies, at which point they'll have to find a new Edith.
The term scapegoat has biblical origins, rooted in the Day of Atonement rituals as described in Leviticus 16. Once each year, the high priest would confess all the sins of Israel to a goat. The sins were transferred to the goat, so to speak, and it was driven into the wilderness. Thus Israel was cleansed.
A scapegoat, then, is one who takes on the sins of others. Biblically, this referred not only to the cultic ritual described above, but also to the sacrificial death of Christ on the cross. He is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world (John 1.29), for he has carried our sorrows (Isaiah 53.4) and become sin for us (2 Corinthians 5.21).
The point I'd like to make is that Jesus was the last scapegoat. He was blamed for the sins of all in both the philosophical sense (others blamed him) and the theological sense (he willingly accepted that blame). The reason he was the last scapegoat, the final one we ever need recognize, is that his death was not the end of the story. Jesus was resurrected into new life, conquering death, and in so doing, he exposed the violent scapegoating tendencies in the human heart and forced us to realize precisely how much evil we are truly capable of performing. Faced with our own complicity to sacrifice others for our benefit, as though we were looking into a mirror showing us how morally hideous we have become, we recoil from our sinful nature and embrace God and his plan to heal the world. Jesus' victory, then, is the starting point for his present work in the world, where—through his Spirit—he continues to triumphantly break down sin's power and deify men.
Through Christ, we are called more than conquerors (see Romans 8). We are not simply beneficiaries of his victory, but participants in his war on sin, both internally, in our own hearts against our own sinful nature, and externally, against the powers of darkness arrayed in the world. What does this mean for us?
Two things, initially. First, we must refuse to blame others—especially God—for the sins (and their consequences) we have personally performed. No one got us into the mess we're in but us. The good news is God will help us get out of it. Second, we must thank God for his mercy in this regard and endeavor to assist him in all possible ways, so evil is uprooted both internally and externally as quickly and as thoroughly as possible.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Mnemonic Victory
Mnemonic devices are little strings of words we use to help us remember big concepts. I often find them very helpful in wading through the vast stores of scriptural knowledge required in my profession. For example, every time I see a compact disc, I can't help but think of the prophet Habakkuk. In the late eighties and through the nineties, CDs (the abbreviation for compact disc) were the standard form for transporting music. But my friend Paul Hughes once held up a CD with a piece of masking tape on it to teach me about Habakkuk. The prophet's name was scrawled on the tape, a makeshift label, and the CD stood for crisis and dialogue, the two main themes of the biblical book. Because of that little mnemonic device, I've got a good handle on that book for life.
In real life, I often use a mnemonic aid to assist in victorious living. It's a simple little refrain that helps me remember every moment in life is an opportunity to submit to God's Spirit and be renewed in his image. Here's the device:
When they ________, then you _________, so that _________.
When they, then you, so that. There's kind of a sing-song feel to it when you say it out loud, what Shakespearians would call iambic meter. Anyway, the gist involves letting yourself be formed by Christ instead of reacting to the poor behavior of others. So, when they (curse you, revile you, hate you), then you (bless them, forgive them, respond with mercy) so that (the Spirit gets bigger inside you, you are re-formed into the image of Christ, you are transformed).
We have to learn to see every unpleasant, miserable thing as an opportunity for God to do his new creation, resurrection work in us, killing off our sinful nature and bringing the kingdom to bear.
We have to see these things with kingdom eyes, changing our perspective from “woe is me” to “thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”
When they crucify you, then you sacrifice yourself willingly, so that God will raise you up into new life.
The next time you feel like strangling someone who's treating you like a weiner, try to hear these little iams working through your head and see if it doesn't help you respond differently.
In real life, I often use a mnemonic aid to assist in victorious living. It's a simple little refrain that helps me remember every moment in life is an opportunity to submit to God's Spirit and be renewed in his image. Here's the device:
When they ________, then you _________, so that _________.
When they, then you, so that. There's kind of a sing-song feel to it when you say it out loud, what Shakespearians would call iambic meter. Anyway, the gist involves letting yourself be formed by Christ instead of reacting to the poor behavior of others. So, when they (curse you, revile you, hate you), then you (bless them, forgive them, respond with mercy) so that (the Spirit gets bigger inside you, you are re-formed into the image of Christ, you are transformed).
We have to learn to see every unpleasant, miserable thing as an opportunity for God to do his new creation, resurrection work in us, killing off our sinful nature and bringing the kingdom to bear.
We have to see these things with kingdom eyes, changing our perspective from “woe is me” to “thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”
When they crucify you, then you sacrifice yourself willingly, so that God will raise you up into new life.
The next time you feel like strangling someone who's treating you like a weiner, try to hear these little iams working through your head and see if it doesn't help you respond differently.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Victory Isn't Getting What You Want
Victory isn't about getting what you want. It’s about getting what God wants in you and loving it. It's his victory, not yours. He died on the cross to spare you from it. Your participation in his suffering is derivative, just as your victory is derivative too.
That ought to affect how we think, speak, and pray about victory. In fact, that may be one of the primary ways Christian victory is different from worldly success. In truth, you can have victory even in the midst of failure, since failing at a given task is often of far less spiritual consequence than failing to live life as God intended.
To disambiguate, we might distinguish between horizontal victory and vertical victory. Horizontal victory is getting what you want in this life. Vertical victory is living the way God wants. For the Christian, vertical victory always precedes horizontal victory. Your vertical victory is your responsibility before God. Attend first to him and what he wants. Then, in concert with the Spirit, pursue your earthly victory.
For example, if a woman's boss berates her every day, she wants horizontal victory. She wants her boss to stop verbally abusing her. God wants that too, but God also wants this woman to take every possible ounce of good from this miserable circumstance. The woman knows this and knows vertical victory always comes first, so she prays and asks God for two things simultaneously. First, she asks that her boss would leave her alone; and second, that she would endure his tirades with grace and respond in love. The woman knows victory in either direction will only come through the power of God's Spirit, but she chooses to cooperate with God in all the ways she can manage. Consequently, whenever her boss amps up, the woman begins to cycle the scriptures through her mind and cautions herself to respond with self-control, to avoid saying something that may get her fired. After work, she goes home and continues her spiritual struggle, claiming victory and reminding herself that her boss doesn't define her or shape her, and that he doesn't have the power to rob her of her God-given dignity. Concerning her boss she thinks, You don't define me. You don't shape me. I'm shaped and defined by God, made in his image and filled with his spirit. I have dignity. I have the victory in Jesus' name over all the accusations of the enemy, including all the crap coming out of your mouth.
The woman may not see horizontal victory right away, but she still has vertical victory (even if he never lets up) because she's untouched by his negativity and murderous spirit. She is not defined by the enemy, but by Christ. She finds immediate vertical victory as she longs for ultimate horizontal victory.
And, of course, the more Christ wins in us, the easier it becomes for us to walk in victory with others. The woman's boss finally notices her gracious responses to his long-standing jerkiness and backs off.
Had the woman not prioritized the vertical over the horizontal, she may have missed out on both. She may have fought the wrong war with the wrong weapons and lost on both fronts. Which is what might happen to you, unless you remember victory isn't about getting what you want, but about getting what God wants in you and loving it.
That ought to affect how we think, speak, and pray about victory. In fact, that may be one of the primary ways Christian victory is different from worldly success. In truth, you can have victory even in the midst of failure, since failing at a given task is often of far less spiritual consequence than failing to live life as God intended.
To disambiguate, we might distinguish between horizontal victory and vertical victory. Horizontal victory is getting what you want in this life. Vertical victory is living the way God wants. For the Christian, vertical victory always precedes horizontal victory. Your vertical victory is your responsibility before God. Attend first to him and what he wants. Then, in concert with the Spirit, pursue your earthly victory.
For example, if a woman's boss berates her every day, she wants horizontal victory. She wants her boss to stop verbally abusing her. God wants that too, but God also wants this woman to take every possible ounce of good from this miserable circumstance. The woman knows this and knows vertical victory always comes first, so she prays and asks God for two things simultaneously. First, she asks that her boss would leave her alone; and second, that she would endure his tirades with grace and respond in love. The woman knows victory in either direction will only come through the power of God's Spirit, but she chooses to cooperate with God in all the ways she can manage. Consequently, whenever her boss amps up, the woman begins to cycle the scriptures through her mind and cautions herself to respond with self-control, to avoid saying something that may get her fired. After work, she goes home and continues her spiritual struggle, claiming victory and reminding herself that her boss doesn't define her or shape her, and that he doesn't have the power to rob her of her God-given dignity. Concerning her boss she thinks, You don't define me. You don't shape me. I'm shaped and defined by God, made in his image and filled with his spirit. I have dignity. I have the victory in Jesus' name over all the accusations of the enemy, including all the crap coming out of your mouth.
The woman may not see horizontal victory right away, but she still has vertical victory (even if he never lets up) because she's untouched by his negativity and murderous spirit. She is not defined by the enemy, but by Christ. She finds immediate vertical victory as she longs for ultimate horizontal victory.
And, of course, the more Christ wins in us, the easier it becomes for us to walk in victory with others. The woman's boss finally notices her gracious responses to his long-standing jerkiness and backs off.
Had the woman not prioritized the vertical over the horizontal, she may have missed out on both. She may have fought the wrong war with the wrong weapons and lost on both fronts. Which is what might happen to you, unless you remember victory isn't about getting what you want, but about getting what God wants in you and loving it.
Monday, March 26, 2012
The Instrument of Your Defeat is the Occasion of Your Victory
None of the dark powers understood why Christ came into the world. If they had, they wouldn't have pinned him to the cross (see 1 Corinthians 2.8). Maybe these dark powers were blinded by their own ambition or greed. Maybe, when Christ took fragile human form, they thought, What luck! Here's our chance to end it all. Regardless, they played right into God's hands. God used Satan's own evil to bring about Satan's own destruction.
Since his earlier attempt to involve Jesus in a collaboration to rule the earth failed, Satan set about to seize what he thought was a moment of vulnerability (viz. The Son is now human and can be killed) and had Jesus crucified. Ironically, Satan even enticed Judas to betray Jesus and in so doing the devil signed his own death warrant.
Here's a powerful spiritual principle: often the things that look to destroy you are the very things God will use to make you grow.
The instrument of your defeat is the occasion of your victory.
Did you catch that? We attain victory only when we're under attack, besieged, and persecuted. There's no victory without a war.
When I was a young man, first starting out in the ministry, I asked my dad what the best way was for people to grow in the faith. I expected him to say something like small groups, or reading the Bible. Instead, Dad answered matter-of-factly with this little gem: pain.
Pain is what makes us grow.
You can't grow muscles without exercise. You can't grow your intellect without study. All growth requires resistance. We have to learn to see things as they really are, through kingdom eyes, and understand that hardship isn't just hard—it is also the opportunity to overcome, to grow, and to cultivate the kingdom in us.
In order for you to be part of the new creation, your old self has to be crucified; you must go through pain, through death. Then, in the midst of that pain, you get your victory via resurrection, as the new creation comes to bear.
The new you, remade and reformed into the image of your creator, only emerges as you're sanctified though all the hard stuff. Which means we need to change our perspective on hardship, difficulty, and sorrow.
When troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.
James 1.2-4
Since his earlier attempt to involve Jesus in a collaboration to rule the earth failed, Satan set about to seize what he thought was a moment of vulnerability (viz. The Son is now human and can be killed) and had Jesus crucified. Ironically, Satan even enticed Judas to betray Jesus and in so doing the devil signed his own death warrant.
Here's a powerful spiritual principle: often the things that look to destroy you are the very things God will use to make you grow.
The instrument of your defeat is the occasion of your victory.
Did you catch that? We attain victory only when we're under attack, besieged, and persecuted. There's no victory without a war.
When I was a young man, first starting out in the ministry, I asked my dad what the best way was for people to grow in the faith. I expected him to say something like small groups, or reading the Bible. Instead, Dad answered matter-of-factly with this little gem: pain.
Pain is what makes us grow.
You can't grow muscles without exercise. You can't grow your intellect without study. All growth requires resistance. We have to learn to see things as they really are, through kingdom eyes, and understand that hardship isn't just hard—it is also the opportunity to overcome, to grow, and to cultivate the kingdom in us.
In order for you to be part of the new creation, your old self has to be crucified; you must go through pain, through death. Then, in the midst of that pain, you get your victory via resurrection, as the new creation comes to bear.
The new you, remade and reformed into the image of your creator, only emerges as you're sanctified though all the hard stuff. Which means we need to change our perspective on hardship, difficulty, and sorrow.
When troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.
James 1.2-4
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Prayer
God wants to establish his lordship over the cosmos through us. He wants his bride to reign with him (2 Timothy 2.12; Revelation 5.10, 20.6). This was the plan from the beginning (see Genesis 1.26-27). It's not enough to know Satan has been defeated. He has to be routed, to be eradicated, out of our homes, out of our families, out of our lives, and out of our minds.
The best way to accomplish this is through prayer.
The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective (James 5.16). Prayer moves God and makes an incredible difference in the world. Jesus told us to ask God for things, promising that they would be given (Matthew 7.7, 18.19-20; John 14.13-16, 15.7, 16.23). He encouraged us to pray with tireless persistence as though God needed to be called to attention (Luke 11.5-13, 18.1-8).
In light of this, we have to acknowledge that prayer is an essential part of our co-reigning with him. God's will is like a business check that must be cosigned in order to be validated. The church is the cosigner, and prayer is our signature.
The best way to accomplish this is through prayer.
The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective (James 5.16). Prayer moves God and makes an incredible difference in the world. Jesus told us to ask God for things, promising that they would be given (Matthew 7.7, 18.19-20; John 14.13-16, 15.7, 16.23). He encouraged us to pray with tireless persistence as though God needed to be called to attention (Luke 11.5-13, 18.1-8).
In light of this, we have to acknowledge that prayer is an essential part of our co-reigning with him. God's will is like a business check that must be cosigned in order to be validated. The church is the cosigner, and prayer is our signature.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
You Have To Care
Despair is the enemy of victory.
In war, if two equal and opposing sides cannot be differentiated by anything other than morale, the sad side loses.
Period.
It's the same in spiritual warfare. If you lose the battle for your spirit, if your hope is lost and your optimism shattered, if you read the scriptures and cannot bring yourself to believe them, then you've lost even before the fight has begun.
You can't win if you cease to care. If you stop caring about your marriage, you'll end up divorced. Nobody's marriage is perfect, but if you let the ongoing imperfections lead you into despair, you'll give up and lose the fight for happiness, mutuality, and partnership.
God cannot perform what he wants in your spirit without your openness and cooperation with his spirit. Neither can we expect God to work in our favor if we act with disregard or carelessness toward others, ourselves, or our circumstances.
You have to fight for victory in your outlook, so you can experience victory in your circumstances.
The real question at the end of all this is how do you lift your spirits, boost your morale, and restore your hope?
Three things must be said here. First, hope comes through character (see Romans 5.2-5). You get hope in the midst of suffering because suffering produces perseverance, and perseverance produces character, and character produces hope. If you can keep fighting to keep fighting (that's the perseverance part), you'll grow increasingly resolute (that's the character part), and those two things together (which we might refer to as suffering well) add up to hope because, simply put, you wake up and realize Hey, I haven't lost yet, and I've been fighting for a long time. Maybe there's hope after all!
Voila.
Secondly, you have to realize hope comes though memory and the application of memory into the future. For example, when you read the scriptures and learn the stories of people who previously put their hope in God you realize that [a] you're not the only person to have fought for hope and [b] if they can persevere then so can you (Romans 15.4). Likewise, when you look back over your life and see the litany of God's faithfulness to you, you become increasingly confident that the same God who showed up to help you before can be trusted to show up and help you once again. Victory yesterday translates into hope for tomorrow.
Boom.
Shacka-lacka.
Finally, hope is rooted in imagination. You have to close your eyes and dream up a better future, one consistent with God's vision for your life, and then work towards bringing that dream into reality. Admittedly, this is the hardest of the three, but it is also the most profitable. Despair is, at the root, all the wrong kinds of imagination. It's when you let your fantasies spoil and become nightmares so that all you can imagine is horrible and wrong. Take control over your imagination, fill your mind with wonder and beauty and adventure and meaning, and start healthy production back at the fantasy-factory.
Of course, there's good biblical language for this kind of sanctified imagination. In the scriptures they call it visions and dreams, and when the prophets spoke about the visions God gave them for the people, the net result was always hope.
Hope does not disappoint.
In war, if two equal and opposing sides cannot be differentiated by anything other than morale, the sad side loses.
Period.
It's the same in spiritual warfare. If you lose the battle for your spirit, if your hope is lost and your optimism shattered, if you read the scriptures and cannot bring yourself to believe them, then you've lost even before the fight has begun.
You can't win if you cease to care. If you stop caring about your marriage, you'll end up divorced. Nobody's marriage is perfect, but if you let the ongoing imperfections lead you into despair, you'll give up and lose the fight for happiness, mutuality, and partnership.
God cannot perform what he wants in your spirit without your openness and cooperation with his spirit. Neither can we expect God to work in our favor if we act with disregard or carelessness toward others, ourselves, or our circumstances.
You have to fight for victory in your outlook, so you can experience victory in your circumstances.
The real question at the end of all this is how do you lift your spirits, boost your morale, and restore your hope?
Three things must be said here. First, hope comes through character (see Romans 5.2-5). You get hope in the midst of suffering because suffering produces perseverance, and perseverance produces character, and character produces hope. If you can keep fighting to keep fighting (that's the perseverance part), you'll grow increasingly resolute (that's the character part), and those two things together (which we might refer to as suffering well) add up to hope because, simply put, you wake up and realize Hey, I haven't lost yet, and I've been fighting for a long time. Maybe there's hope after all!
Voila.
Secondly, you have to realize hope comes though memory and the application of memory into the future. For example, when you read the scriptures and learn the stories of people who previously put their hope in God you realize that [a] you're not the only person to have fought for hope and [b] if they can persevere then so can you (Romans 15.4). Likewise, when you look back over your life and see the litany of God's faithfulness to you, you become increasingly confident that the same God who showed up to help you before can be trusted to show up and help you once again. Victory yesterday translates into hope for tomorrow.
Boom.
Shacka-lacka.
Finally, hope is rooted in imagination. You have to close your eyes and dream up a better future, one consistent with God's vision for your life, and then work towards bringing that dream into reality. Admittedly, this is the hardest of the three, but it is also the most profitable. Despair is, at the root, all the wrong kinds of imagination. It's when you let your fantasies spoil and become nightmares so that all you can imagine is horrible and wrong. Take control over your imagination, fill your mind with wonder and beauty and adventure and meaning, and start healthy production back at the fantasy-factory.
Of course, there's good biblical language for this kind of sanctified imagination. In the scriptures they call it visions and dreams, and when the prophets spoke about the visions God gave them for the people, the net result was always hope.
Hope does not disappoint.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Planting Pitons
Two spiritual clichés come closest to the point, but miss it still. The first, “we are all on a spiritual journey,” correctly indicates that the spiritual life is gradual, ever-progressing, and long. But it fails to indicate the fact that the journey is hard. Not just sometimes. It is always hard, and when it is hardest is when it is also most beneficial. It’s better to speak of a spiritual ascent than a journey, though I confess I'm nitpicking.
The second cliché is also journey-oriented: “you are always either moving closer to God or away from him; you are never spiritually stagnant.” This thought correctly indicates the fact that there is no such thing as dead-in-the-water faith. At best, we're pursuing God; at worst, we've lost interest and are pursuing something else. There is no middle ground. And yet this catchphrase neglects an equally important consideration. It's difficult to abandon God entirely after a lifetime of seeking him actively. It's far more common, and far more probable, that long-term God-seekers only drift so far when their attention wanes. They rarely, if ever, turn right around and neglect God completely. They simply have too much practice attending to him to forget about him. Even in the worst case scenario—a fallen pastor, a fraud, an embittered missionary, an apologist who is no longer persuaded by her best arguments—those who have devoted themselves to God for a long, long time find it almost impossible to leave him in their wake.
God is a hard habit to break.
After considering these clichés (the spiritual journey and the myth of stagnation) for some time, I ran across an illustration by John Wimber, the founder of the Vineyard church. In speaking of spiritual development, Wimber says there are times when we attain certain understanding, or reach a certain level (for lack of a better term) from which we cannot slide backwards. To extend our mountain-ascent metaphor, these understandings are like pitons—the metal spikes mountain climbers rely on for safety while scaling incredible heights. Pitons are planted firmly in the rock as the climbers ascend. Ropes are threaded through the pitons from the lead climber to the climber below. As a result, the climbers can never fall too far past their last piton. This is called belaying, and it has saved many lives.
Knowing God puts us on a path of spiritual transformation. But that path is tough and requires real effort on our part to cooperate with the Spirit and ascend in the faith. As we grow, we're constantly planting pitons—little markers that keep us from slipping too far. Some of these are theological (Jesus was both God and man, come to save the world), and some are experiential (because of the presence of the Spirit in my life, I know I'll get through these present difficulties), but the good news is that if we slip, the last piton is always there, with Christ as the climber below holding our rope.
When you consider your spirituality, you might do well to catalogue your pitons. Think of them. Name them. Describe them. These are your past victories, and as you strive for your next victories, you may take some strength from understanding just how far you've come.
The second cliché is also journey-oriented: “you are always either moving closer to God or away from him; you are never spiritually stagnant.” This thought correctly indicates the fact that there is no such thing as dead-in-the-water faith. At best, we're pursuing God; at worst, we've lost interest and are pursuing something else. There is no middle ground. And yet this catchphrase neglects an equally important consideration. It's difficult to abandon God entirely after a lifetime of seeking him actively. It's far more common, and far more probable, that long-term God-seekers only drift so far when their attention wanes. They rarely, if ever, turn right around and neglect God completely. They simply have too much practice attending to him to forget about him. Even in the worst case scenario—a fallen pastor, a fraud, an embittered missionary, an apologist who is no longer persuaded by her best arguments—those who have devoted themselves to God for a long, long time find it almost impossible to leave him in their wake.
God is a hard habit to break.
After considering these clichés (the spiritual journey and the myth of stagnation) for some time, I ran across an illustration by John Wimber, the founder of the Vineyard church. In speaking of spiritual development, Wimber says there are times when we attain certain understanding, or reach a certain level (for lack of a better term) from which we cannot slide backwards. To extend our mountain-ascent metaphor, these understandings are like pitons—the metal spikes mountain climbers rely on for safety while scaling incredible heights. Pitons are planted firmly in the rock as the climbers ascend. Ropes are threaded through the pitons from the lead climber to the climber below. As a result, the climbers can never fall too far past their last piton. This is called belaying, and it has saved many lives.
Knowing God puts us on a path of spiritual transformation. But that path is tough and requires real effort on our part to cooperate with the Spirit and ascend in the faith. As we grow, we're constantly planting pitons—little markers that keep us from slipping too far. Some of these are theological (Jesus was both God and man, come to save the world), and some are experiential (because of the presence of the Spirit in my life, I know I'll get through these present difficulties), but the good news is that if we slip, the last piton is always there, with Christ as the climber below holding our rope.
When you consider your spirituality, you might do well to catalogue your pitons. Think of them. Name them. Describe them. These are your past victories, and as you strive for your next victories, you may take some strength from understanding just how far you've come.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Not Total Victory
I believe Christ is working through us to heal the world. God is working to accomplish his kingdom purposes through us, to slowly colonize Earth with the spirit of heaven. I believe those who seek to follow Christ can positively affect the world around them, slowly bringing new creation to bear, so the world more closely resembles what God designed it to be.
But that won't ever happen completely in my lifetime.
I wish it were otherwise, but it's not. Any positive differences we make are comparatively small. They're not inconsequential, but they suffer from scale.
You can't save the world.
You likely can't even save all the people you know.
But most of us, most of the time, fail to realize that. We think that, since God is working through us, and since we're willing to cooperate, a whole lot of problems ought to be solved a whole lot quicker than they are.
They should, but they won't. Not totally. To believe we can totally reverse the U.S. economic depression, or totally clean up our streets from the drug trade, or totally eradicate crime in our neighborhoods, or totally educate every single child in the state, or totally stand in the way of terrorism is unrealistic. That doesn't mean we shouldn't try, only that we shouldn't despair when we don’t accomplish everything we hope to.
When we do despair, we are guilty of an over-realized eschatology. The eschaton is the fancy word for the end of time, when God finally shows up to make all wrong things right and all crooked things straight, when he reunites this world with his world. Whenever we try to fix everything and fail, the sadness we feel is an ideological sadness born out of a misunderstanding of his ultimate plan.
You see, you can't fix everything. If you could, we wouldn't need God. We'd just need you. But you're not God.
Don't let that discourage you, though. You can still fix some stuff. You can still have some victory in this life.
But not all.
You won't have total victory in this life. That only happens at the end, when you're reunited with Christ in paradise. This is the struggle for the next victory, a partial victory that comes through the ceaseless advance of the kingdom-in-you. God is exporting his kingdom purpose in you, making you and your family and your network a franchise of his kingdom. It's not quick work, but it's well done.
But that won't ever happen completely in my lifetime.
I wish it were otherwise, but it's not. Any positive differences we make are comparatively small. They're not inconsequential, but they suffer from scale.
You can't save the world.
You likely can't even save all the people you know.
But most of us, most of the time, fail to realize that. We think that, since God is working through us, and since we're willing to cooperate, a whole lot of problems ought to be solved a whole lot quicker than they are.
They should, but they won't. Not totally. To believe we can totally reverse the U.S. economic depression, or totally clean up our streets from the drug trade, or totally eradicate crime in our neighborhoods, or totally educate every single child in the state, or totally stand in the way of terrorism is unrealistic. That doesn't mean we shouldn't try, only that we shouldn't despair when we don’t accomplish everything we hope to.
When we do despair, we are guilty of an over-realized eschatology. The eschaton is the fancy word for the end of time, when God finally shows up to make all wrong things right and all crooked things straight, when he reunites this world with his world. Whenever we try to fix everything and fail, the sadness we feel is an ideological sadness born out of a misunderstanding of his ultimate plan.
You see, you can't fix everything. If you could, we wouldn't need God. We'd just need you. But you're not God.
Don't let that discourage you, though. You can still fix some stuff. You can still have some victory in this life.
But not all.
You won't have total victory in this life. That only happens at the end, when you're reunited with Christ in paradise. This is the struggle for the next victory, a partial victory that comes through the ceaseless advance of the kingdom-in-you. God is exporting his kingdom purpose in you, making you and your family and your network a franchise of his kingdom. It's not quick work, but it's well done.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
The Next Step
How do you gain victory over something like unforgiveness? A step at a time.
My mom told me about a painful experience she and my dad had during their early years in pastoral ministry. They were building a new facility at their church and—as is so common—tensions between the church leadership and the church laity grew as the building costs escalated, and the project threatened to soar out of hand. During that season, many people left the church (and many more came, too, because of all the excitement). Whenever someone leaves a church it hurts the pastor. Sometimes more and sometimes less, but it always hurts. Maybe it shouldn't. But it always does.
Some of the folks who left were Mom and Dad's closest friends. In fact, all of their friends left. The church grew, and many people came to faith in Christ, but my parents were left alone, hurting, and bewildered as to their abandonment. To make matters worse, the reason their friends left was some uncertainty about my father's character. I can tell you honestly that my dad is the single most godly man I've ever met, but they didn't know that. They only had suspicions and rumors to go on, and go they did.
My folks were not only isolated, but also besmirched. And not just by enemies, but by their allies.
Mom says she was full of hate. She couldn't figure out why they had been so abused. And they still had to see their old friends at social events and around town. They tried to avoid the same grocery stores and shopping centers and restaurants, and they were mostly successful, until—finally—they had to go to a wedding where all these people would be.
En route to the wedding, God spoke to my mom, and told her to walk up to the ringleader of the dissenters and throw her arms around him. She was instructed to remember the good times, before all the drama, and tell this man she loved him. She told my dad what God had spoken into her spirit, and Dad encouraged her to follow through on it. Dad wasn't excited about the prospect of any kind of confrontation, but he had enough faith to believe God knew what he was doing.
They got to the wedding and, sure enough, all my folks’ old friends were huddled together laughing at the reception. Mom went right up into the middle of them and hugged that man for all he was worth, saying "I love you."
He was totally taken aback, but composed himself quickly. He returned Mom's hug and replied, "Glenda—I love you, too."
Mom says in that moment all the evil went out of her. It was like an exorcism. In an instant, she had been given supernatural victory over her hurt and her inability to forgive. Those folks never came back to our church, but that's not the point. The point, in Mom's words, is that "my hatred was hurting me—they didn't have a thing to do with it. And when it was over? I could have done the happy dance."
Mom wouldn't have had that experience without first being obedient to God. If she had refused to hug that man and tell him she loved him (do I even need to point out it was plutonic?), then she may have had to work through those issues for much, much longer. But that's how it works: you take a step, and then God meets you. He doesn't show you the whole way forward, just the next step.
In Genesis 12:1, God spoke to Abraham and told him to leave the land of his fathers and "go to the land I will show you." Abraham must have wondered, Which land? But God didn't tell him. He just told Abraham to take a step.
You take a step of faith. And then God takes a step to meet you. If you don't take your step—your step of obedience—he waits a long, long time to take his. Because he wants the two of you to journey together.
How do you get over something like unforgiveness? A step at a time. But not alone. And not without any promise of recovery or reward. And not without some confidence that God is going to greet you. You have to take the next step, but he takes the one right after.
In the end, we are condemned to victory.
My mom told me about a painful experience she and my dad had during their early years in pastoral ministry. They were building a new facility at their church and—as is so common—tensions between the church leadership and the church laity grew as the building costs escalated, and the project threatened to soar out of hand. During that season, many people left the church (and many more came, too, because of all the excitement). Whenever someone leaves a church it hurts the pastor. Sometimes more and sometimes less, but it always hurts. Maybe it shouldn't. But it always does.
Some of the folks who left were Mom and Dad's closest friends. In fact, all of their friends left. The church grew, and many people came to faith in Christ, but my parents were left alone, hurting, and bewildered as to their abandonment. To make matters worse, the reason their friends left was some uncertainty about my father's character. I can tell you honestly that my dad is the single most godly man I've ever met, but they didn't know that. They only had suspicions and rumors to go on, and go they did.
My folks were not only isolated, but also besmirched. And not just by enemies, but by their allies.
Mom says she was full of hate. She couldn't figure out why they had been so abused. And they still had to see their old friends at social events and around town. They tried to avoid the same grocery stores and shopping centers and restaurants, and they were mostly successful, until—finally—they had to go to a wedding where all these people would be.
En route to the wedding, God spoke to my mom, and told her to walk up to the ringleader of the dissenters and throw her arms around him. She was instructed to remember the good times, before all the drama, and tell this man she loved him. She told my dad what God had spoken into her spirit, and Dad encouraged her to follow through on it. Dad wasn't excited about the prospect of any kind of confrontation, but he had enough faith to believe God knew what he was doing.
They got to the wedding and, sure enough, all my folks’ old friends were huddled together laughing at the reception. Mom went right up into the middle of them and hugged that man for all he was worth, saying "I love you."
He was totally taken aback, but composed himself quickly. He returned Mom's hug and replied, "Glenda—I love you, too."
Mom says in that moment all the evil went out of her. It was like an exorcism. In an instant, she had been given supernatural victory over her hurt and her inability to forgive. Those folks never came back to our church, but that's not the point. The point, in Mom's words, is that "my hatred was hurting me—they didn't have a thing to do with it. And when it was over? I could have done the happy dance."
Mom wouldn't have had that experience without first being obedient to God. If she had refused to hug that man and tell him she loved him (do I even need to point out it was plutonic?), then she may have had to work through those issues for much, much longer. But that's how it works: you take a step, and then God meets you. He doesn't show you the whole way forward, just the next step.
In Genesis 12:1, God spoke to Abraham and told him to leave the land of his fathers and "go to the land I will show you." Abraham must have wondered, Which land? But God didn't tell him. He just told Abraham to take a step.
You take a step of faith. And then God takes a step to meet you. If you don't take your step—your step of obedience—he waits a long, long time to take his. Because he wants the two of you to journey together.
How do you get over something like unforgiveness? A step at a time. But not alone. And not without any promise of recovery or reward. And not without some confidence that God is going to greet you. You have to take the next step, but he takes the one right after.
In the end, we are condemned to victory.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
this is worth every second: Kony 2012
The Kony 2012 "Controversy" (by Dan Pallotta, Harvard Business Review Commentator)
4:40 PM Tuesday March 13, 2012 | Comments (167)
Last week, Invisible Children launched a brilliant video aimed at making Ugandan rebel warlord Joseph Kony "famous" in the interest of capturing him and ending his reign of deranged brutality. The group hoped for half a million YouTube views by year end. They're up to 76 million today.
And now they're being attacked — not by Kony, but by critics whose voices are raised louder about this video than they ever were by Kony's atrocities.
Founded by three college students in 2003, Invisible Children is a human rights organization. They intended to make a documentary on Darfur. Bullets in the direction of their truck in Uganda caused them to change direction. Instead of a film, they ended up creating a massive movement to save children from abduction into Kony's rebel army. Their movement has galvanized hundreds of thousands of young people all over the world. They raise in excess of $13 million annually.
We pay lip service to the need to raise a new generation of socially conscious young people. We build institutes for leadership and the advancement of civil society on our campuses for it. Not in their wildest dreams could these efforts hope to produce young leaders capable of the results these three young men have achieved. This is movement-building at its finest. I have rarely seen anything like it.
Similarly, many bemoan the march of students into business schools and investment banking. They despair at the advance of materialism over concern for the world. These three activists and their legions of supporters are the opposite of that.
Yet predictably, the more successful their movement becomes, the more criticism they attract — and from the very people preaching social consciousness and decrying MBAs. It's a wonder any young person would want to try to change the world anymore. At the first sign that any of them actually has a shot at it, their own sector wants to cut them off at the knees. No success allowed. It offends our puritan ethos of self-criticism and restraint. Here's what Invisible Children is being criticized for:
1. Not combating the atrocities of the Ugandan military establishment. This reminds me of an incident in 1983. Thirty-eight of my classmates and I were bicycling 4,256 miles across the United States over nine weeks during an extremely hot summer to raise money for world hunger. Someone asked, "Why aren't you doing anything about hunger in America?" My response was that we had our hands full biking across America for world hunger and that if the guy was so damned concerned about hunger in America why wasn't he doing something about it himself?
2. Not giving adequate weight to the fact that Kony is now outside of Uganda with a weakened force of several hundred members. Now, as if their domestic movement-building wasn't awe-inspiring enough, Invisible Children has built an early warning radio network to protect local citizens from rebel attack. Their website has a user-interface that tracks this data. It's so user-friendly it makes Apple's aesthetics look sophomoric. Yes, Kony is out of Uganda, but that hasn't stopped his Lord's Resistance Army from killing 151 people and abducting 591 in the last year alone. What are the critics saying, exactly? Leave the poor murderer alone, he's suffered enough already?
3. Spending too much money on film and media. It's a film and media organization for Christ's sake. That's how they've drawn this massive groundswell of young supporters to their cause. Would critics rather they spent nothing on film and media and that no one know about them or the issue? That the children remain invisible? Of the $8.9 million the group spent last year, only 3.2% was spent on fundraising, and only 16.24% on administration. And guess what people were administering and fundraising for? The mission of the organization. So, to you young followers out there, given what I've seen, I'd say 100% of the money you're giving is going to good. I actually think they should be spending more, not less on fundraising. And Invisible Children has the clearest, most transparent financial and disclosure statements I've just about ever seen.
4. Making it harder to capture Kony by spotlighting him. What's the alternative? Maintain the strategy that's left him free for sixteen years?
The children are now visible. Case closed. If only more humanitarian organizations had such success toward their missions.
But there's something bigger going on here.
In the 1960s, critics whined that the money spent to go to the moon was more than it was worth. They didn't get that it wasn't about collecting moon rocks. It was about collecting passion and aiming it at something impossible. It was about demonstrating to ourselves that we were underestimating our potential by massive orders of magnitude. They didn't get the impact of millions of eight year-old kids watching Neil Armstrong walk on the moon, whispering to ourselves, "My God, anything is possible."
You should see the light in the eyes of the college kids engaged in Invisible Children's mission. That's the larger value of what these guys have created. A generation of kids believing again that they can change the world, and seeing themselves accomplish it.
The criticism is largely based in envy at Invisible Children's success. Envy? In charity? Yes. There are an awful lot of people out there for whom all of this work is still about their own holiness. They'd rather children remain obscured by criticism of the way in which they're being made visible.
switching dinner plates
Spirituality is like food and drugs.
Drugs can be mixed with food either by an enemy, as poison, or by a physician, as medicine. Either way, the drugs go down easier. On the one hand, the drugs bring death; on the other, life.
Spirituality is like that too.
Imagine sitting down to eat dinner with a poisoner and a physician. Both have had access to the same ingredients and both have cooked you supper. Two plates sit before you, identical in all outward respects. You wonder Who made this? Is it poison or medicine? If you eat the wrong food you'll die. But if you choose wisely, you'll live forever.
The food in question, parabolically, is our life on earth. In some sense, it has been drugged by both the devil and the Lord. Satan has prepared a sinister supper: death. But just as dinner is served, Christ has absconded the tray and swapped out the food. Death is still on the menu, but it is now accompanied by the dessert of resurrection. Satan wants you dead. Christ wants you to die so you can be born again.
If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake, you will save it. (Luke 9:24)
Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live. (John 11:25)
For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. (Philippians 1:21)
I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. (Galatians 2:20)
Satan drugged us with death, and Christ with life. And this isn't the first time this has happened. The crucifixion was the first switching of the plates. Instead of Christ's death being the end of our hope, as Satan intended, it was the beginning. Instead of it being the sign of Satan's triumph, it was the moment of his defeat.
What God has done in Christ for us, he has now also done in us for Christ.
Dinner has been served, and it has been appointed once for a man to die (Hebrews 9:27), so eat and drink for tomorrow we die (Isaiah 22:13).
Just make sure to eat dessert.
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