The more I read the Bible, the more I appreciate the disciples. They are just so...human! These followers of Christ, these extra-special people are some of the most dense, confused and hypocritical people in the entire Bible. I love that the Bible doesn't hide that. It doesn't gloss them over and only tell us the good things about the disciples - it tells us when they totally suck too!
In the Catholic calendar, today is St. Philip and St. James' day, so naturally today's passage (John 14:6-14) is about St. Philip. Philip says to Jesus, "Show us God, then we'll be satisfied." I feel that way sometimes, especially when I feel like my life is out of control or I have experienced a series of bad events. I feel like crying out, "Just show yourself to me, God! Let me see you so I can know you're really there and you're really taking care of me."
It's one thing to talk the talk. It's easy to say that God is always with us. It's easy to say that God takes care of us. But when the rubber hits the road and tragedy strikes or sickness hits or you don't have enough money to pay your bills that month, just saying that God takes care of you doesn't seem to be enough. You want proof. You want a solution, healing, cash - not now, right now! If that would happen, then I'd be satisified. Then I'd know you were really there, God.
I love Jesus' response to Philip. "Have I been with you all this time and you still don't know me?" Jesus walked with Philip. He talked with Philip. He performed miracles in front of Philip. He prayed with Philip. But it wasn't enough. All Philip could see was the way the disciples were treated by the Pharisees and he wanted reassurance. His question to Jesus proves that Thomas wasn't the only doubting disciple. He wanted to see God, to know that who and what he was following wasn't some grand hoax.
"Have I been with you all this time and you still don't know me?"
Isn't it the same with us? We've seen God work in our lives and the lives of the people we know. We've seen him come through in some of the worst situations, bringing comfort and healing and hope. Heck, I've even seen him take care of my finances time and time again. And yet it's still not enough some days.
We already know that life on this earth is not guaranteed to be easy just because we're Christians. We live in a broken, sinful world, full of pressure to worship things and lifestyles other than Christ. But Jesus is with us and he works all things for the good of those who love him. All things - the good stuff and the bad stuff - are in God's control.
How then can we say, 'Show us the Father'? Do we not believe that Jesus is in the Father and the Father is in him? Those days when we are not satisfied with God, when we want proof that he's there, we need to look to the cross again and again and again until we remember and are convinced that Jesus really is enough.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
abuse
Acts 7:55-8:1 - the stoning of Stephen.
Apart from Jesus, Steven was the first martyr for the Christian faith. As a North American Christian, I don't think a lot about martyrdom. My life isn't in danger here because of what I believe. I'm protected. I can more or less say what I want, worship where and to whom I want and pray to my God whenever I want (even in a public school if I'm so inclined). I don't worry about being beaten or killed for what I believe in.
That's not the case for many Christians. Many Christians rely on stories like Stephen's just to endure the hardships they face every day. They need to look to someone like Stephen to assure themselves that even though their fellow humans may hate them to the point of wanting to kill them, God does not. God loves them completely and unconditionally.
I own the book 'Jesus Freaks' by the organization called the Voice of the Martyrs. It's powerful and disturbing and shows me one of the things I miss as a North American Christian. I miss the gut-wrenching, life-or-death need for Jesus that these people experience every day. I miss this, but I don't want it. I have no interest in being in those kinds of situations.
In many ways, I feel that the persecuted church has an easier time living as Christians than the non-persecuted church. Why? Well, think about it. If you're gonna risk your life, you wanna be really, really sure about what you're risking your life for. I honestly don't think that persecuted Christians made their decision to come to Christ lightly. They know what they're up against. Once they've made their decision, there really aren't many more choices after that. They could deny their faith and become like the people persecuting them or not. Risk my life or become a killer. Somehow, risking ones life actually seems like the better option to me. And if you're risking your life to that extent, then clinging to the promise of the gospel that Jesus will reward you and that you will go to heaven where no one will persecute you is a pretty gratifying thing.
In North America, however, there are thousands of other choices apart from Christianity. I don't risk very much by becoming a Christian. It's not a life-or-death decision (in this life, anyway). And if one does decide to become a Christian, there are so many things that can distract you and lure you away. There's less of a sense of urgency about being a Christian in North America.
I think in some ways, there is a more of a danger in North America of becoming like Saul. In the story of Stephen, he stood by and watched people stone Stephen to death. People lay their jackets at his feet and he stood there and approved. He was a good Jew. He had it made. Nothing to worry about. No one waiting to stone him. Thing was, technically, Stephen was a good Jew too. A good Jew with a new revelation.
God forbid that the non-persecuted church stand by and watch their fellow Christians be killed. Let's not forget those for whom Christianity is a life-or-death decision.
Want to get involved? Click here to write a letter to a prisoner.
Apart from Jesus, Steven was the first martyr for the Christian faith. As a North American Christian, I don't think a lot about martyrdom. My life isn't in danger here because of what I believe. I'm protected. I can more or less say what I want, worship where and to whom I want and pray to my God whenever I want (even in a public school if I'm so inclined). I don't worry about being beaten or killed for what I believe in.
That's not the case for many Christians. Many Christians rely on stories like Stephen's just to endure the hardships they face every day. They need to look to someone like Stephen to assure themselves that even though their fellow humans may hate them to the point of wanting to kill them, God does not. God loves them completely and unconditionally.
I own the book 'Jesus Freaks' by the organization called the Voice of the Martyrs. It's powerful and disturbing and shows me one of the things I miss as a North American Christian. I miss the gut-wrenching, life-or-death need for Jesus that these people experience every day. I miss this, but I don't want it. I have no interest in being in those kinds of situations.
In many ways, I feel that the persecuted church has an easier time living as Christians than the non-persecuted church. Why? Well, think about it. If you're gonna risk your life, you wanna be really, really sure about what you're risking your life for. I honestly don't think that persecuted Christians made their decision to come to Christ lightly. They know what they're up against. Once they've made their decision, there really aren't many more choices after that. They could deny their faith and become like the people persecuting them or not. Risk my life or become a killer. Somehow, risking ones life actually seems like the better option to me. And if you're risking your life to that extent, then clinging to the promise of the gospel that Jesus will reward you and that you will go to heaven where no one will persecute you is a pretty gratifying thing.
In North America, however, there are thousands of other choices apart from Christianity. I don't risk very much by becoming a Christian. It's not a life-or-death decision (in this life, anyway). And if one does decide to become a Christian, there are so many things that can distract you and lure you away. There's less of a sense of urgency about being a Christian in North America.
I think in some ways, there is a more of a danger in North America of becoming like Saul. In the story of Stephen, he stood by and watched people stone Stephen to death. People lay their jackets at his feet and he stood there and approved. He was a good Jew. He had it made. Nothing to worry about. No one waiting to stone him. Thing was, technically, Stephen was a good Jew too. A good Jew with a new revelation.
God forbid that the non-persecuted church stand by and watch their fellow Christians be killed. Let's not forget those for whom Christianity is a life-or-death decision.
Want to get involved? Click here to write a letter to a prisoner.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
the servant king
The story of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples (John 13:12-16) is one of those that hits me in the gut every time. Jesus' act of humility throws a glaring light on my own unwillingness to be humble. I have to sit there and watch my Savior and Lord act as a slave and wash feet. Stinky, smelly, dirty feet. And then I have to hear him when he says, "I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you."
We all know Jesus was not a 'king' in the traditional sense of the word. Jesus did not want power over otherh people. He wanted influence. His desire was to influence us to serve each other. To think of others before ourselves. No one achieves power that way - not even 'benevolent' kings. That's not how the heirarchy functions.
In some ways, top-down leadership is easy for those that follow. You do what the main guy says and that's that. No questions, no nothing. Do it or else.
Jesus' leadership is not like that. He shows the way and then says, my child, it's up to you. I have shown you my example. Follow it or don't. My kingdom is about love.
I think, like the Jews at the time, there's a part of us that wants Jesus to be the knight in shining armor who takes down the enemy with unprecedented skill and aplomb. We love the resurrection because it's victory! Up from the grave he arose, with a mighty triumph o're his foes! Jesus comes back from what seemed like utter defeat to reign supreme!
That is part of the story. What we miss is that Jesus allowed his defeat. He didn't have to sit there and take the accusations thrown at him. He didn't have to let the guards so easily arrest him. He didn't even have to let Judas betray him. He had many opportunities, even apart from being God, to put an end to what was going on. But he didn't. He willingly suffered. He willingly died. He willingly washed his disciples feet. He conquered, but it wasn't by the sword or even an advanced heavenly form of martial arts. It was by submitting to defeat. It was by deliberately losing.
He suffered so that we could never say, 'You don't know what it's like.'
He endured God leaving him so we could never say, 'I feel so alone.'
He accepted defeat so we could never say 'You've never been there.'
He walked the road to the cross so that he could tell us, 'I know what it's like. I've felt that alone, I have been there. I endured for you and I ended up conquering! Put your hope and your trust in me.'
We all know Jesus was not a 'king' in the traditional sense of the word. Jesus did not want power over otherh people. He wanted influence. His desire was to influence us to serve each other. To think of others before ourselves. No one achieves power that way - not even 'benevolent' kings. That's not how the heirarchy functions.
In some ways, top-down leadership is easy for those that follow. You do what the main guy says and that's that. No questions, no nothing. Do it or else.
Jesus' leadership is not like that. He shows the way and then says, my child, it's up to you. I have shown you my example. Follow it or don't. My kingdom is about love.
I think, like the Jews at the time, there's a part of us that wants Jesus to be the knight in shining armor who takes down the enemy with unprecedented skill and aplomb. We love the resurrection because it's victory! Up from the grave he arose, with a mighty triumph o're his foes! Jesus comes back from what seemed like utter defeat to reign supreme!
That is part of the story. What we miss is that Jesus allowed his defeat. He didn't have to sit there and take the accusations thrown at him. He didn't have to let the guards so easily arrest him. He didn't even have to let Judas betray him. He had many opportunities, even apart from being God, to put an end to what was going on. But he didn't. He willingly suffered. He willingly died. He willingly washed his disciples feet. He conquered, but it wasn't by the sword or even an advanced heavenly form of martial arts. It was by submitting to defeat. It was by deliberately losing.
He suffered so that we could never say, 'You don't know what it's like.'
He endured God leaving him so we could never say, 'I feel so alone.'
He accepted defeat so we could never say 'You've never been there.'
He walked the road to the cross so that he could tell us, 'I know what it's like. I've felt that alone, I have been there. I endured for you and I ended up conquering! Put your hope and your trust in me.'
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
weary
I have been away from this for too long. It occurs to me that the longer I go without making time to sit and be with God, the more tired and weary I become. I start to feel fragmented and pulled apart, never whole.
I have not succeeded in my lenten sacrifice, giving up my need to do things. I started out okay, but I haven't ended well. Now it's the passion week and I'm left feeling more tired than I was at the start of lent. It's discouraging. What is it in me that feels so obligated to people? Why do I feel like I 'owe' so many when, if I were really dealing in a strict sense of debt and recompense, there are far more people that 'owe' me than the other way around? I don't know.
Caring too much about what other people think of me and wanting desperately for everyone to like me are my bigger flaws. Flaws I'm usually able to gloss over with the sheen of 'selflessness' and 'helpfulness'. When these flaws become exposed for what they really are - selfishness and a lack of reliance on God - I feel very vulnerable and broken.
Today's passage in Isaiah 50:4-7 at first glance looks like an argument for Christians being doormats for others. Read it a little more carefully, however, and you begin to see that it's more of an argument for complete and utter reliance on God.
I get stuck on the second half of the passage that talks about Isaiah allowing himself to be abused by others and I wonder...is that what the Christian is called to? To just endure all the abuse hurled at him or her? But then I go back to the beginning of the passage and realize that Isaiah was not a passive bystander who people randomly abused. He was the mouthpiece of God. God taught him, gave him the words to say and the audience to say it to and Isaiah was faithful and obedient to these tasks.
So why, then, the abuse? Well, Isaiah knew how to sustain the weary with a word, but the weary didn't always want to hear it. Sometimes the weary are ornery, frustrated and angry and don't want to hear anything from anyone, no matter if it will sustain them or not. I know I feel weary right now and quite honestly, I don't want anyone trying to 'cheer me up.' I'm quite content to be weary and sullen right now, thank you.
I guess that makes me the abuser rather than the abused right now, doesn't it? Hmm. That's disconcerting.
Looks like I've got a lot of reconnecting with God to do this week...
I have not succeeded in my lenten sacrifice, giving up my need to do things. I started out okay, but I haven't ended well. Now it's the passion week and I'm left feeling more tired than I was at the start of lent. It's discouraging. What is it in me that feels so obligated to people? Why do I feel like I 'owe' so many when, if I were really dealing in a strict sense of debt and recompense, there are far more people that 'owe' me than the other way around? I don't know.
Caring too much about what other people think of me and wanting desperately for everyone to like me are my bigger flaws. Flaws I'm usually able to gloss over with the sheen of 'selflessness' and 'helpfulness'. When these flaws become exposed for what they really are - selfishness and a lack of reliance on God - I feel very vulnerable and broken.
Today's passage in Isaiah 50:4-7 at first glance looks like an argument for Christians being doormats for others. Read it a little more carefully, however, and you begin to see that it's more of an argument for complete and utter reliance on God.
I get stuck on the second half of the passage that talks about Isaiah allowing himself to be abused by others and I wonder...is that what the Christian is called to? To just endure all the abuse hurled at him or her? But then I go back to the beginning of the passage and realize that Isaiah was not a passive bystander who people randomly abused. He was the mouthpiece of God. God taught him, gave him the words to say and the audience to say it to and Isaiah was faithful and obedient to these tasks.
So why, then, the abuse? Well, Isaiah knew how to sustain the weary with a word, but the weary didn't always want to hear it. Sometimes the weary are ornery, frustrated and angry and don't want to hear anything from anyone, no matter if it will sustain them or not. I know I feel weary right now and quite honestly, I don't want anyone trying to 'cheer me up.' I'm quite content to be weary and sullen right now, thank you.
I guess that makes me the abuser rather than the abused right now, doesn't it? Hmm. That's disconcerting.
Looks like I've got a lot of reconnecting with God to do this week...
Thursday, March 16, 2006
trust
When Vergil & I got married, we chose a passage from Matthew about not worrying; about trusting God for our needs. We come back to that verse often when we're in stressful times. It reminds us that God is in control and that we can count on him to take care of us.
Today's passage is from Jeremiah 17:5-8 and it reminds us of the same thing. If we only trust in ourselves, we will never see relief when troubled times come. If we refuse to look to God, the 'drought' or the desert will seem to last forever. However, if we rely on God and trust him, we will prosper. We will be like trees planted near water that never worries about droughts.
I need that reminder all the time. My trust is in God who orders all things for good. That's not to say I will never experience hard times. It's not to imply that nothing bad will ever happen to me. My trust in God goes beyond my experiences here in this world. It has to because sin always marrs goodness. My trust in God has to go all the way to heaven when God will make everything right. Then I'll experience true justice. Then I'll experience true peace. Then I'll experience complete belonging.
Some days its hard to trust. Some days I find it extremely difficult to believe that anything good can come from the crap situations I find myself and my friends in. But I don't trust God in the vain hope that things will be made right in this life. I trust him to make things right in the next.
In the meantime, I have to choose every day to trust him with all the little things. That's often harder than trusting him with the big stuff. The big stuff is overwhelming - I don't want to keep those worries for myself. The little stuff I always try to convince myself I can manage on my own. But in the end, I need to trust God with that too.
What do you need to learn to trust God with?
Today's passage is from Jeremiah 17:5-8 and it reminds us of the same thing. If we only trust in ourselves, we will never see relief when troubled times come. If we refuse to look to God, the 'drought' or the desert will seem to last forever. However, if we rely on God and trust him, we will prosper. We will be like trees planted near water that never worries about droughts.
I need that reminder all the time. My trust is in God who orders all things for good. That's not to say I will never experience hard times. It's not to imply that nothing bad will ever happen to me. My trust in God goes beyond my experiences here in this world. It has to because sin always marrs goodness. My trust in God has to go all the way to heaven when God will make everything right. Then I'll experience true justice. Then I'll experience true peace. Then I'll experience complete belonging.
Some days its hard to trust. Some days I find it extremely difficult to believe that anything good can come from the crap situations I find myself and my friends in. But I don't trust God in the vain hope that things will be made right in this life. I trust him to make things right in the next.
In the meantime, I have to choose every day to trust him with all the little things. That's often harder than trusting him with the big stuff. The big stuff is overwhelming - I don't want to keep those worries for myself. The little stuff I always try to convince myself I can manage on my own. But in the end, I need to trust God with that too.
What do you need to learn to trust God with?
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
doing vs. being
I think I have already established that I get a sense of accomplishment out of 'doing' things. This lent, I'm trying to give up my need to do so much stuff. Not that I'll just sit back and be completely lazy and useless for 40 days, rather, I want to seek to be content with who I am instead of what I do.
Sometimes passages in the Bible can feel very conflicting to me when it comes to this issue. There are many passages that instruct us to do good things, like today's from Isaiah 1:16-17. The instructions are clear - do good. Doing good in the Bible almost always referrs to caring for others. It's always about the second half of the ten commandments - the 'love your neighbour' part.
The thing I often forget, however, is that the 'love your neighbor' part of the ten commandments is completely futile (and sometimes impossible) if you don't follow the first half, the 'love the Lord your God' part.
If you love someone, you want to please them. I love Vergil so I do things to show him I love him. I want to please him. I want him to see by my actions that I love him. It's the same with God. If we really love him, we'll want to please him. We'll want to show him by our actions that we love him. And it's funny, but the way we show him that we love him is to love each other.
We cannot make God love us any more or any less than he already does. But our responsibility is to show him our love for him. That's why we need to do good.
So, here's me - someone who feels better or worse about myself based on the things I do. So how do I reduce that tendancy? I think what I need to do is focus on God's love for me. If I commit to thinking about that, then I won't be so focused on trying to 'earn' his love by what I do. Then the good things I do will flow out of who I am - a person loved by God.
I feel a little rambly and tired this morning. I'm sorry if this blog didn't make any sense today. :o)
Sometimes passages in the Bible can feel very conflicting to me when it comes to this issue. There are many passages that instruct us to do good things, like today's from Isaiah 1:16-17. The instructions are clear - do good. Doing good in the Bible almost always referrs to caring for others. It's always about the second half of the ten commandments - the 'love your neighbour' part.
The thing I often forget, however, is that the 'love your neighbor' part of the ten commandments is completely futile (and sometimes impossible) if you don't follow the first half, the 'love the Lord your God' part.
If you love someone, you want to please them. I love Vergil so I do things to show him I love him. I want to please him. I want him to see by my actions that I love him. It's the same with God. If we really love him, we'll want to please him. We'll want to show him by our actions that we love him. And it's funny, but the way we show him that we love him is to love each other.
We cannot make God love us any more or any less than he already does. But our responsibility is to show him our love for him. That's why we need to do good.
So, here's me - someone who feels better or worse about myself based on the things I do. So how do I reduce that tendancy? I think what I need to do is focus on God's love for me. If I commit to thinking about that, then I won't be so focused on trying to 'earn' his love by what I do. Then the good things I do will flow out of who I am - a person loved by God.
I feel a little rambly and tired this morning. I'm sorry if this blog didn't make any sense today. :o)
Monday, March 13, 2006
avoiding conflict
Most people who know me know how much I hate confrontation. I can discuss just about any issue and I can even get passionate about stuff, but if I sense that the 'discussion' is moving towards a fight, I back right off and don't look back.
People think it's weird that Vergil and I have never had a fight in our 7 years together. There are multiple reasons for that, but some of them are that a) we're communicators. We talk about stuff all the time and therefore don't typically have any miscommunications to fight about. b) We have very similar personalities. We think alike on most issues and those that we don't agree don't really affect our relationship anyway. c) I hate conflict. I get upset when other people fight, so you can fair bet that I avoid it in my own relationships.
All this is really a side bar to today's passage (Luke 6:36-38). It's still early, so I don't know if my thoughts are going to be very connected. Anyway, I shall ramble on. Today's passage is a bit of a mantra of mine. It's the one I refer to when I'm in especially sticky moral dilemmas such as homosexuality. It's a good out - 'do not judge and you will not be judged; do not condemn and you will not be condemned.' This passage saves me from conflict by allowing me not to take a firm stand on a number of people-related issues.
However, as I think about it, I realize that I'm guilty of not applying this mantra to much of my everyday life. I judge people all the time based on what they wear, their hairstyle, the peculiar angle of their nose and the way they behave in the 2 seconds I observe or hear about. "That girl is a ho." "That guy is a dude." "Sports commentators make me want to cut my ears off."
I'm two faced. I only use this verse as a fail-safe for avoiding conflict. I don't always apply it to the rest of my life. I need to guard my mouth and my thoughts to be sure that I am truly being merciful. That I am withholding judgement and condemnation. That I am seeking to forgive, even if it means letting that guy cut me off without flipping him the bird.
And, as always, Jesus' teaching is harder than it first appears. It seems fine and easy in theory but to put it into honest practice is a whole other ball game. But you know what? I want that 'good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over,' poured into my lap.
"If you give, you begin to live...you begin...you get the world!"
People think it's weird that Vergil and I have never had a fight in our 7 years together. There are multiple reasons for that, but some of them are that a) we're communicators. We talk about stuff all the time and therefore don't typically have any miscommunications to fight about. b) We have very similar personalities. We think alike on most issues and those that we don't agree don't really affect our relationship anyway. c) I hate conflict. I get upset when other people fight, so you can fair bet that I avoid it in my own relationships.
All this is really a side bar to today's passage (Luke 6:36-38). It's still early, so I don't know if my thoughts are going to be very connected. Anyway, I shall ramble on. Today's passage is a bit of a mantra of mine. It's the one I refer to when I'm in especially sticky moral dilemmas such as homosexuality. It's a good out - 'do not judge and you will not be judged; do not condemn and you will not be condemned.' This passage saves me from conflict by allowing me not to take a firm stand on a number of people-related issues.
However, as I think about it, I realize that I'm guilty of not applying this mantra to much of my everyday life. I judge people all the time based on what they wear, their hairstyle, the peculiar angle of their nose and the way they behave in the 2 seconds I observe or hear about. "That girl is a ho." "That guy is a dude." "Sports commentators make me want to cut my ears off."
I'm two faced. I only use this verse as a fail-safe for avoiding conflict. I don't always apply it to the rest of my life. I need to guard my mouth and my thoughts to be sure that I am truly being merciful. That I am withholding judgement and condemnation. That I am seeking to forgive, even if it means letting that guy cut me off without flipping him the bird.
And, as always, Jesus' teaching is harder than it first appears. It seems fine and easy in theory but to put it into honest practice is a whole other ball game. But you know what? I want that 'good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over,' poured into my lap.
"If you give, you begin to live...you begin...you get the world!"
Monday, March 06, 2006
judgement
Today's passage (Matt. 25:34-40) is another of those teachings of Jesus that always makes me a little uneasy. The separation of the righteous from the unrighteous. The judgement of the good and the bad. The decision that determines where you end up - heaven or hell.
Jesus talks about the righteous helping those who are in need. Clothing the naked, welcoming the stranger, caring for the sick, visiting the prisoner. Whatever we do for the least of these, we do for Jesus. Passages like this remind me that I'm not doing enough. I have not clothed a naked person (yes, I've given old clothes to the Salvation Army, but you'd be hard-pressed to find any naked people roaming the streets in the middle of a Winnipeg winter). I don't remember the last time I welcomed a stranger (yes, I welcome new TYNers, but they're not exactly strangers, are they?). I don't care for the sick (yes, I have taken care of my grandparents when they are not feeling well and have many times brought flowers or food for my friend who was all but living in the hospital for a while there, but that's stuff that I would do anyway). And I've never visited anyone in prison (okay, I have a friend who's dad is in prison (wrongfully, I might add) and I care for her, but again, something I would do anyway).
I notice my familiar theme again - 'I'm not doing enough'. As though my salvation depends on the things I do. I know better. I'm smarter than that. I know there's nothing I can 'do' to make God love me any more or any less.
And yet, I still feel inadequate. I could go out and do all the things that Jesus instructs - but somehow, I know I would be doing it just to make myself feel better.
One of the things that really struck me in this verse today was when Jesus describes the response of the righteous. They didn't know they had done all these things. They just did them because it's something they would do anyway. Almost like when Jesus points these things out to them, it's the first time they've heard of it. "When did we do all of that?" they wonder.
It makes me realize that righteousness is not earned. Instead, it flows out of relationship with God. It arises out of the understanding of what Jesus' death and resurrection really means. Righteousness does not mean 'doing' good things all the time; that's the kind of behaviour Jesus raged agains in the bible. Doing good things for the sake of appearing good.
Rather, righteousness is a shift in personality and attitude that God grants us when we accept Jesus into our hearts. We do good works not because we want to look good but because it's something we would do anyway. It's part of who we are. It's part of the new creation that God has made in us through the death and resurrection of his son.
I think I need to think about that more this lent, since I'm trying to give up my need to do things. Why do I need to do so much? Is it to make myself look good or is it because that's who I am?
Definitely a point to ponder...
Jesus talks about the righteous helping those who are in need. Clothing the naked, welcoming the stranger, caring for the sick, visiting the prisoner. Whatever we do for the least of these, we do for Jesus. Passages like this remind me that I'm not doing enough. I have not clothed a naked person (yes, I've given old clothes to the Salvation Army, but you'd be hard-pressed to find any naked people roaming the streets in the middle of a Winnipeg winter). I don't remember the last time I welcomed a stranger (yes, I welcome new TYNers, but they're not exactly strangers, are they?). I don't care for the sick (yes, I have taken care of my grandparents when they are not feeling well and have many times brought flowers or food for my friend who was all but living in the hospital for a while there, but that's stuff that I would do anyway). And I've never visited anyone in prison (okay, I have a friend who's dad is in prison (wrongfully, I might add) and I care for her, but again, something I would do anyway).
I notice my familiar theme again - 'I'm not doing enough'. As though my salvation depends on the things I do. I know better. I'm smarter than that. I know there's nothing I can 'do' to make God love me any more or any less.
And yet, I still feel inadequate. I could go out and do all the things that Jesus instructs - but somehow, I know I would be doing it just to make myself feel better.
One of the things that really struck me in this verse today was when Jesus describes the response of the righteous. They didn't know they had done all these things. They just did them because it's something they would do anyway. Almost like when Jesus points these things out to them, it's the first time they've heard of it. "When did we do all of that?" they wonder.
It makes me realize that righteousness is not earned. Instead, it flows out of relationship with God. It arises out of the understanding of what Jesus' death and resurrection really means. Righteousness does not mean 'doing' good things all the time; that's the kind of behaviour Jesus raged agains in the bible. Doing good things for the sake of appearing good.
Rather, righteousness is a shift in personality and attitude that God grants us when we accept Jesus into our hearts. We do good works not because we want to look good but because it's something we would do anyway. It's part of who we are. It's part of the new creation that God has made in us through the death and resurrection of his son.
I think I need to think about that more this lent, since I'm trying to give up my need to do things. Why do I need to do so much? Is it to make myself look good or is it because that's who I am?
Definitely a point to ponder...
Thursday, March 02, 2006
egomaniac
It doesn't take me long to think of at least ten people I would consider to be egomainiacs. People who are so self-obsessed that they make you feel bad about yourself just by giving you 'that look' out of the corner of their eye.
They make me very angry.
And then I think to myself of something I have found to be very true - you hate the most the thing you do yourself. Does that mean I'm an egomaniac? Sometimes. Not that I outwardly show it, necessarily, but there are times when I catch myself thinking that I'm most definitely better than a lot of other people. I fish for compliments. I dig around to find out what good things people think of me. I pat myself on the back every time I do something I know someone would admire.
Today's passage is similar to one I talked about a couple weeks ago. It's Jesus instructing us to deny ourselves, take up our crosses and follow him.
Lent is about denying yourself something. I've decided to try to give something up that's a little more difficult than giving up my morning tea. I'm going to try to give up my need to do things and my need to be successful. I'm going to try to learn how to rest in God.
This is something that's a constant struggle for me because it means denying the egomaniac part of me. It prevents me from finding my self-satisfaction in the things that I do and forces me to boast in God rather than in myself. It forces me to slow down and get out of God's way so that he can do his work without me trying to control the whole situation.
What are you denying yourself this lenten season? What does the cross you are bearing look like as you follow Jesus?
They make me very angry.
And then I think to myself of something I have found to be very true - you hate the most the thing you do yourself. Does that mean I'm an egomaniac? Sometimes. Not that I outwardly show it, necessarily, but there are times when I catch myself thinking that I'm most definitely better than a lot of other people. I fish for compliments. I dig around to find out what good things people think of me. I pat myself on the back every time I do something I know someone would admire.
Today's passage is similar to one I talked about a couple weeks ago. It's Jesus instructing us to deny ourselves, take up our crosses and follow him.
Lent is about denying yourself something. I've decided to try to give something up that's a little more difficult than giving up my morning tea. I'm going to try to give up my need to do things and my need to be successful. I'm going to try to learn how to rest in God.
This is something that's a constant struggle for me because it means denying the egomaniac part of me. It prevents me from finding my self-satisfaction in the things that I do and forces me to boast in God rather than in myself. It forces me to slow down and get out of God's way so that he can do his work without me trying to control the whole situation.
What are you denying yourself this lenten season? What does the cross you are bearing look like as you follow Jesus?
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
lent
Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. It's the day where we're supposed to commemorate Jesus' sacrifice for us by giving up something we feel has a hold over us for 40 days - from now until Easter.
Vergil decided he was going to give up Starbucks and coffee, but I couldn't think of something to give up myself. Coffee? I stopped drinking that this past summer. Tea? I really only have one cup a day. Besides which, it's good for me. Sugar? I haven't done enough pre-planning to do that. Smoking? Not a smoker.
Today's reading from Joel 2:12-14 is about repentance. Turning back to God with our whole hearts. The 'Need Inspiration' section invites the reader to give up the things that have a hold on our lives. So what has a hold on me? The only thing I could think of was the chaos of my life.
How do I give up my life? How do I give up all the things I'm doing for 40 days? I can't not go to work. I can't not go to Youth. How do I give up the craziness that I've been feeling recently? How do I let go of the chaos in my head when I have so much to do?
Weird, no? I think so. I feel very torn about this year's lent. Normally, lent passes and I don't even know when it started. This year for some reason I'm very conscious of it. Like it smacked me in the face. I can't figure out why.
Maybe I'm being called to something. The trouble is, whenever I think about 'being called' my brain instantly goes to thinking it's something I need to do.
Maybe that's it. Maybe I need to give up my need to do stuff. Maybe I need to give up (again) the importance I feel when I get things done. Maybe I need to take more time to rest and be with God. Maybe that's what I'm being called to this lent.
Vergil and I are going to try to rest this weekend. I hope that can be the start of a 'restful' lent for me. Will you remember to pray for me? I'd appreciate it.
What are you being called to give up this lent?
Vergil decided he was going to give up Starbucks and coffee, but I couldn't think of something to give up myself. Coffee? I stopped drinking that this past summer. Tea? I really only have one cup a day. Besides which, it's good for me. Sugar? I haven't done enough pre-planning to do that. Smoking? Not a smoker.
Today's reading from Joel 2:12-14 is about repentance. Turning back to God with our whole hearts. The 'Need Inspiration' section invites the reader to give up the things that have a hold on our lives. So what has a hold on me? The only thing I could think of was the chaos of my life.
How do I give up my life? How do I give up all the things I'm doing for 40 days? I can't not go to work. I can't not go to Youth. How do I give up the craziness that I've been feeling recently? How do I let go of the chaos in my head when I have so much to do?
Weird, no? I think so. I feel very torn about this year's lent. Normally, lent passes and I don't even know when it started. This year for some reason I'm very conscious of it. Like it smacked me in the face. I can't figure out why.
Maybe I'm being called to something. The trouble is, whenever I think about 'being called' my brain instantly goes to thinking it's something I need to do.
Maybe that's it. Maybe I need to give up my need to do stuff. Maybe I need to give up (again) the importance I feel when I get things done. Maybe I need to take more time to rest and be with God. Maybe that's what I'm being called to this lent.
Vergil and I are going to try to rest this weekend. I hope that can be the start of a 'restful' lent for me. Will you remember to pray for me? I'd appreciate it.
What are you being called to give up this lent?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)