Papa's Womb-like Compassion

We finally began our series on The Shack. Last Sunday we delved into what many people find offensive about this book--it's portrayal of God. If you've read the book, you know what I'm talking about. God reveals himself to Mack, the main character, as an African American woman who loves to cook and is fond of everyone she speaks of.

Though many people have been offended by this picture, it never really troubled me. In scripture we discover maternal images of God. Read Isaiah 49.15-16 as well as Isaiah 66.13. Also, the Hebrew word for compassion used frequently in the Old Testament is the same root word for womb. Psalm 103.13 states "As a father has compassion for his children, so the Lord has compassion for those who fear him." The word compassion used in this verse is derived from the word womb. In other words, Papa has a womb-like compassion for his children. This is a powerful image trying to communicate the fierce and loyal love of the Lord!

Am I advocating that we call God mother? No, I'm not. Scripture never does. However, what we have to recognize is that all of our language about God is metaphorical. Our words and pictures never contain God, they only point to God. So envisioning that God loves us like a mother loves the offspring of her womb is a good way to understand God's embrace.

And that's really the point I was trying to make. God does love us. He is good to us. We must let that love descend to the very core of our being.

Peace.

Multiplying Our Sorrows

Last Sunday we talked a little bit about idolatry. Jeremiah, speaking to a fallen nation, highlights their self-inflicted wounds one more time (30.12-15). They have failed to keep the main thing the main thing, turning away from God and pursuing other lovers. This failure to make God their highest good in life created more problems not less.

So it is for us: when we increase our gods, we multiply our sorrows (Ps. 16.4). By taking a gift of God and elevating it to a god--depending upon it to save, to give us peace, security and abiding love--we make our lives incredibly complex. We wound ourselves.

For example, if you have to be in romantic relationship, you will create havoc in your life. You will sacrifice your morals and you will get involved in unhealthy relationships simply because you have to have a romantic relationship. This says more about you than anything else. It says, you don't have a core from which to live. You don't really have a self. There's no stability in your life. Since God is not the highest good in your life, you've take a gift from God and turned into an idol. This creates a huge problem is: you will always be disappointed. Romantic love will never bring rest to your soul.

The same thing can happen with children. If your children have to be successful and superior in order for you to be happy, then you will push your children in ways that will probably drive them away. You will try to create them into your own image rather than celebrate the image of God already made manifest in their lives. Yes, children, though a gift from God, can become an idol. We can be so wrapped up into our children--clinging to them, smothering them, demanding that others see how great they are--that we do more harm than good, to ourselves and our children. Because we don't have a core self rooted in God, we can't even help our children because we're in the water drowning with them, instead of standing on the shore and throwing out a life-preserver.

Or what about living for success. I've done that, and I did not like the results. I constantly compared myself to others. I became jealous or bitter when others succeeded. Don't get me wrong, success is a gift from God. It's good thing. If God gives it to you, rejoice, be humble and most of all, be thankful. But never turn it into a god, for it will never bring satisfaction to your soul.

The good news is that God wants to heal us. Jeremiah continues to proclaim, despite these self-inflicted wounds--that God wants to heal Israel (30.16-22). God wants to come and give us new hearts, hearts devoted to him (31.31-34). Will we let him? Or will we persist in our own idolatry and therefore in our sorrow. Peace!

God's Silence

Last Sunday we delved into Jeremiah's complaint speeches and God's responses. Remember, there were three responses: 1) encouragement--15.19-21; 2) Buck up camper, get your game face on--12.5; 3) silence--20.18.

The first two are little easier to comprehend. We know the importance of encouraging those in need as well as exhorting those who are about ready to quit. My parents, in love, offered me comfort and encouragement. They also, in love, pushed me from time to time much like a coach who's trying to get more out of his players.

But the third response is the most troubling of all. Jeremiah pours out his heart to God in chapter 20. He puts it all on the line, stating his wish to have never been born. You can't get any more honest than that. Yet, there is no response from God. Nothing. Nothing but silence.

Strange as it may sound, I can relate to that. All of us can. More than likely, we've experienced times when we could not do the one thing we wanted to do more than anything else--rescue a loved one. We have all had to watch someone for whom we care deeply suffer without being able to do anything to alleviate their suffering. Nothing can be said, nothing can be done. But that doesn't mean love is M.IA. Far from it, we're probably closer to our loved ones when we aren't able to rescue them. Our hearts ache, our spirits groan under the weight of watching and suffering with the person in pain.

So perhaps there is suffering this side of heaven for which there is no easy answer. There is stuff from which we can't be rescued. But that doesn't mean God is far from us. I want to believe he's closer to us than any other time, suffering with us, aching, and hurting. The cross seems to suggest that this is the case. Christ cried out, My God, my God, why have you forsaken me. There was no answer. But it's here that we encounter a very powerful mystery: suffering was taken into the very heart of God. This mystery tells us that we are not alone. God sees, God knows, God suffers with us.

Peace,

David S.

In Defense of Bad Logic

Alright, I'll admit it: My sermon last week was a bit of a logical leap. Nonetheless, let me defend it, hopefully not blindly.

We looked at Jeremiah's message of sin and sickness (chapters 5-6). You remember it, don't you? The people of God turned their backs on their creator and savior, failing to practice the justice and mercy to which they had been called. Because of this failure, their world fell apart. Compassion and kindness were nowhere to be found. Their sin made them sick.

To communicate this troubling truth so that we might really own it, I tried to state Jeremiah's thought positively by arguing that holiness leads to happiness. If rebellion against God and his ways create self-inflicted wounds, then doesn't it stand to reason that holiness leads to happiness? Rest assured, I'm not talking about drunk happy, drug happy, escapism happy, TV happy, or I'm-so-bored-I-need-an-extreme-sport happy. Rather, I'm talking about a deep happiness--lasting joy, peace, emotional health, security, and freedom. This happiness comes from knowing and serving God. I know it's not a simplistic formula. We will struggle and suffer. We will be afflicted with emotional stress and pressure. Yet, in the midst of it all, we can taste a bit of God's goodness that fills our hearts with joy and places us on a more liberating path than that of sin and selfishness.

But, we often sell ourselves short. We cheat ourselves by not letting God be God in our lives. Psalm 16.4 proclaims it clearly, "The sorrows of those will increase who run after other gods." Or in the words of Jeremiah, "do not follow other gods to your own harm" (7.6) When our core identity is wrapped up in something other than the security and freedom that comes from God's infinite love, we're trading in our glory for that which does not profit (cf. Jeremiah 2.5, 11, 25). To live for something other than God is to fall short of what it means to be human; it is to trade in a dollar for five cents. It is to be sorely disappointed.

Well, enough of my words . . . Listen to how others have stated this truth:

• In response to the question why did God descend to humans, Origen says it was "to implant in us the happiness which comes from knowing him."

• "My sin was this, that I looked for pleasure, beauty, and truth not in God but in myself, and in his other creatures, and the search led me instead to pain, confusion, and error." (Augustine)

• "We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea." (C.S. Lewis)

In summary, perhaps we need God to give us more faith, a faith that will empower us to trust that his ways are good, that he really does love us and wants to set us free to enjoy him and his creation.

Something to ponder.

Peace.

History Belongs to the Martyrs

Last week's text, Psalm 33, helped me explore a theme often neglected in the church. Psalm 33 proclaims that the earth is full of the steadfast love of the Lord. The writer sees this truth evident not only in the beauty of creation but in the crumbling of arrogant nations and the overthrow of powerful armies.

I wrestled with this theme for quite some time before the good Lord reminded me that it's true. There's something else going in the world than just brute force. Though there is struggle this side of heaven, we still see signs that the steadfast of the Lord is at work.

Simply put, history belongs to the martyrs. I don't merely mean people who die for their faith, though that is not to be excluded. Rather, I'm using the term the way it's employed in the New Testament. In the New Testament, the word martyr refers to one who witnesses to God's vulnerable love. Just think about all the examples we have of Christianity slowly growing and influencing the world, even without using political power and military might.

The early Christians died for their faith, refusing to bear arms against anyone. Slowly but surely their way of life won over most of the Roman Empire. St. Francis of Assissi lived a life of simple obscurity, caring for the poorest of the poor to the neglect of his own health. Today, we still find ourselves inspired by his witness. And let's not forget Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King Jr., missionaries who labor in the far off places for Christ's amazing love, and parents who witness in countless ways and invest in the kingdom by raising their children to be disciples--all inspired by the death and resurrection of Jesus.

We see this theme clearly at work in Revelation. This amazing book constantly reminds us that God will work for the good of those who love him, even though failure seems so immiment. At the end of time, we will worship the lamb who has been slaughter (Rev. 5). And gathered around the throne are those who have been God's faithful witnesses (Rev. 6, 7.14-17).

Is there anything more wonderful and shocking than this? Sounds to me like the steadfast love of the Lord rules history.

Peace.

When Kings Die

This week I have been confronted with my own vulnerability. Watching my eight-year-old son enter into the realm of tackle football has softened my heart to the harsh realities of our competitive culture.

A little background might be in order: My son has always excelled in football, flag-football, that is. He usually scores most of the points on his team. Twice they have placed him in the quarterback position. He catches well and more often than not he's the fastest kid on the team. He dreams of playing some football, at least at the high school level. I believe he is capable, if his will remains strong. (Yes, I know, everything I've said thus far does not come from an objective observer; but bear with me until I make my point.) You also need to know that this is his dream, not mine, in case you're wondering. I'm not that fond of the football mentality. But I dream with my children; I journey with them in their aspirations.

That aside, he strapped on the pads for three days of assessment to be placed on a team and in a position. He did not perform to his capacity. Thus, he has been assigned as a bottom dweller, and, I assume, a soon-to-be bench warmer. The tragedy of this entire experience is that there was no teaching, no instruction for those who have never played with pads. Sink or swim, sorry so sad was the basic approach. My son doesn't see what's happening, so he's okay. But the father, yours truly, aches. I find myself wondering, is this how it works? Is that what makes or breaks some people--a few days? You have a good night, you're noticed, you're placed in the quarterback position, someone works with you and believes in you, and your path is set for you. Others who lack the right father or the right opportunity or the right connections are left behind? This seems to be the harsh reality of our competitive world.

It has been good for me to remember this. Because as I said last week, when the kings of our lives die, then we can see the King. Remember Isaiah 6.1? "In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord . . ." Isaiah, faced with his own vulnerability--the loss of a good king, sees the King. There is a connection. When our dreams and the dreams of our children are dashed to pieces, then and perhaps only then, are our hearts finally open to see glory of God.

Yes, from time to time, we need to be reminded that we're pursuing stuff that was never intended to bear the full weight of our confidence. We keep thinking that a new relationship, a new car, the fulfillment of a desire will finally bring lasting rest and satisfaction to our weary souls. What we often miss is that these things, though often good, are as fragile as our mortal life. Here today, gone tomorrow.

So I pray this lesson is not lost on us. Faced with our fragile existence, may we be open to the King of glory--the one upon whom we must depend. He is the one designed to bear the weight of our confidence. Nothing else is secure.

Peace!

Living Out of God's Grace

The stranger danger alert system is alive and well.  I can see it in my own heart.  If I listen to my life I often find myself making snap judgments that excuse me from having to extend friendship to others.  Let's be honest, people who hold different opinions or who come from different traditions often frighten us.  So we stay away.  

But sometimes it's even a little worse.  Many people often have an attitude about their convictions--I'm right and everyone else is wrong; the world would be a better place if  others were more like me.  It's easy to gravitate toward this type of thinking; it feels so good.  

Yet we need to be reminded of its inherent dangers.  For starters, it's awfully hard to be right (assuming you're right, which you might not be) and still be nice.  Or to put it another way, our sense of being right often produces arrogance.  Then we're in danger of being as pure as angels and as arrogant as demons, looking down upon others who don't measure up to our standards.  It's one of the greatest temptations Christians face.  Through grace they find themselves enjoying a new quality of life, but then they forget it's grace and start to believe it's their own works that brought them this far.  Love and grace are then replaced with moralism. We've forsaken many vices only to be filled with the one that keeps us from God and others--pride!   

This pride makes a community sick.  It keeps us in our holy huddle, as we refuse to extend hospitality to those who are different.  To counterbalance this tendency, we must learn to live out of God's grace.  God's grace is being extended to all people, even to people we might not be fond of.  Now rest assured, I'm not suggesting we throw truth out the window.  What I am suggesting is that the foundation of our life and the foundation of our morality is always grace.  It's in allowing people to encounter love that lives are transformed for the better.  Furthermore, we have been saved by grace and we live by grace and so we're called to that extend grace to others.  A failure to do so only reveals a disconnect.  

Let's be fanatical followers of Jesus.  Let's live by and through the love that saved us.  

Peace!