Thank you to those who commented on my previous post. Unfortunately, it takes a large amount of effort that I don’t really have time for at the moment to work on that project. You may have to wait a long time to read more. So, for now you just have to deal with my normal ramblings.
Katie and I are in a small group at church that has shifted to reading a couple chapters of the Bible before we meet, and discussing the parts that stuck out to us in some way. We are starting with the book of Romans, and I think it is going to be a great time of growth and exploration of ideas and opinions about what God is saying through Paul. For our most recent session we read the first two chapters of Romans.
In recent history, I think that the first chapter of Romans has been used to justify judgment of some individuals in our society. We decide to pick and choose some ideas that Paul expresses, twist them into what fits our motives, and use them to degrade some individuals placing them further away from God than us in our minds and hearts.
Romans 1:18-28 is entitled God’s Wrath Against Mankind and I will paste it below:
The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of men who suppress the truth by their wickedness, since what may be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them. For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.
For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened. Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like mortal man and birds and animals and reptiles.
Therefore God gave them over in the sinful desires of their hearts to sexual impurity for the degrading of their bodies with one another. They exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshiped and served created things rather than the Creator—who is forever praised. Amen.
Because of this, God gave them over to shameful lusts. Even their women exchanged natural relations for unnatural ones. In the same way the men also abandoned natural relations with women and were inflamed with lust for one another. Men committed indecent acts with other men, and received in themselves the due penalty for their perversion.
Furthermore, since they did not think it worthwhile to retain the knowledge of God, he gave them over to a depraved mind, to do what ought not to be done. They have become filled with every kind of wickedness, evil, greed and depravity. They are full of envy, murder, strife, deceit and malice. They are gossips, slanderers, God-haters, insolent, arrogant and boastful; they invent ways of doing evil; they disobey their parents; they are senseless, faithless, heartless, ruthless. Although they know God's righteous decree that those who do such things deserve death, they not only continue to do these very things but also approve of those who practice them.
Recently there has been a tunnel vision for Christians to focus their attention on verses 24 through 27 in which Paul discusses God giving mankind over to what seems to be homosexuality. Whatever your interpretation of who God is condemning in this section makes absolutely no difference.
Why? Because the section is entitled God’s Wrath Against Mankind.
Mankind, as defined by Merriam-Webster, is “the human race: the totality of human beings.”
Our small group has not reached Romans 3:23 yet, but is says, “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” The upside down thinking involved in focusing on a certain group of individuals and claiming they have fallen further, or deserve God’s love and grace less, is revolting. We are all a part of mankind and we all are nothing without the grace of God through His son’s death on the cross. If we think there is a difference between us and someone who we hold up as being wholly more sinful than us, we blatantly ignore God’s word when it says that, “righteousness from God comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference (Romans 3:22).”
So if we are all sinners, what are we called to do? LOVE EACH OTHER!
When I first started this blog, I said that I would be looking for God in places that He might not be expected. Some of my friends and I use to get made fun of a lot for doing this in high school. We were in to indie music and movies, and would claim that there was a definite tie between these seemingly secular things and God. I think it is easy to fall into thinking that God wouldn’t want to be in those things, and if the person who created it didn’t mean for God to be there He isn’t. I think that idea is horribly wrong. God does not have boundaries. He does not need us to want Him to be there to show up, and He does His best work when He is found in places no one would expect Him. I mean, think about Jesus. Did the people find him in the temple hanging out with Rabbis? No, they found him on the streets and at parties, hanging out with the outcasts of society. So why couldn’t he show up in a song by Outkast today? I know, bad play on words, but I had to do it.
I got hooked on a show called Skins recently, and watched the first two seasons on Netflix. I originally was pulled into the show because I heard that it was where Dev Patel from Slumdog Millionaire was discovered. I don’t recommend the show for the easily offended, and please don’t think poorly of me if you watch it and do get offended. It is the BBC version the Gossip Girl or The Secret Life of an American Teenager without the censorship laws that we have in the US. For the most part, the storylines are outrageous and make me scared for Europe if it is a real representation of a teenager’s life in that culture. It is filled with a lot of drug use and unhealthy relationships, but at the same time it is a very raw picture of some of the pressures that teenagers today face.
In the first season, Dev Patel’s character, Anwar, is struggling with the cognitive dissonance between the doctrine of his Muslim religion, and the way he wants to live his life. A major issue in this chasm between his religious affiliation and his life is the fact that his best friend, Maxxie, is a homosexual. Desiring to be a good Muslim, and make his father proud, he begins to distance himself from his best friend, which causes a great deal of pain for them both. Anwar’s father, a devout Muslim, is constantly asking him why he has not seen Maxxie around lately, and pressures him to hold on to such a good friend. Anwar does not have the guts to share with his father why he is distancing himself, because he holds on to hope that he will be able to preserve his friendship and his religion. He fears that his father will make this impossible if he finds out his friend is a homosexual, due to the Muslim religions adamant denouncing of homosexuality.
In the season finale, Maxxie refuses to enter Anwar’s birthday party because of fear of what will happen when Anwar’s father finds out he is gay. It has come to a point where the friendship cannot last until it is out in the open. Anwar’s father comes outside with Anwar and sees Maxxie. He hugs him, and begins talking to him about all the food inside while Anwar interjects that Maxxie is gay. His father ignores the comment and continues talking until Maxxie interrupts with the same statement. The following is what Anwar’s father says to Maxxie:
“It’s an (expletive), stupid, messed up world. I’ve got my god. He speaks to me every day. Some things I just can’t work out, so I leave them be, okay, even if I think they are wrong, because I know one day he will make me understand. I’ve got that trust, it’s called belief. I’m a lucky man. Come Maxxie, the food is ready.”
I don’t cry too often at movies or television, but Anwar’s father’s words brought me to tears. Although his religion differs from mine, his concept of how to treat mankind is profoundly like my God wants from me. He loves Maxxie for who he is as an entire person, not for one thing that he thinks is wrong and does not understand. He loves Maxxie because he has faith that his god loves him enough to one day explain to him the things he does not understand. He opens his life to Maxxie and says he knows he is a sinner and still wants him at his dinner table. God’s message showed up in a raunchy BBC television show and shared a message that so many followers of Christ seem to be missing.
We are not commanded to judge, we are commanded to love. Jesus said that every law hangs on two commandments (Matthew 22:36-40):
1. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.
2. Love your neighbor as yourself.
There is no room for judgment in these two commandments. There is no room for hate or bigotry. There is only room for love. We are not called to place ourselves closer to God by degrading others. We are called to have the same grace that God’s has for us for all mankind, because we are all in the same messed up world. We are all unworthy of God’s presence, but he invites us to his dinner table anyway. Who are we to think that we have the right or ability to exclude any part of his creation from eating at that table? Who are we to accept God’s grace and divvy out judgment?
Like Anwar’s father said, have faith that God will one day bring clarity to the things you don’t understand. In the meantime, remember the gift you have received, and show your gratitude to God by loving His creation.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
I need some motivation...please!
A while back I began writing about the experience of giving my father’s eulogy, and the experiences that led to that moment. I planned on it being a full length memoir of sorts about his faith journey intermingled with mine, and the places it crossed to lead to that day. I had a horrible time starting, and after writing only a little, I just put it to the side. I would like to post what I had written, and see what you all think. I am not begging for compliments, but looking for motivation to continue the process. Please leave any comments you have positive, negative or neutral. I would like to see if you responses spark a new drive in me to keep writing about those experiences.
Thanks!
I find myself in a storage closet. They claim it is the pastor’s study, but as my elbows bump into music stands, and I am forced to dodge and old worn out piano, I do not feel the comfort that a place of quiet mediation should bring upon its inhabitants. I pace back and forth in the cramped space trying to find my breath...my thoughts...my words. I sit down, stand up, pace some more. Minutes seem like days, and I am constantly reminded of my reason for being here. You cannot escape it in this place, it is not possible. The sounds, the smell, the frigid air, there is no mistaking where I am and why I am there.
Ever since I can remember, when my nerves are at their peak I have this unquenchable feeling that there is phlegm sticking to the back of my throat. I have a constant fear that I will open my mouth and not be able to speak because of the crippling concoction coming up from my lungs and into my throat. Every couple of minutes I leave the closet to search out a place where I can dislodge this mucus. As I walk through the halls, I avoid people’s eyes, but they have an inability to avoid me. Their words are everything but comforting. For the most part, they make me feel completely inadequate and only heighten my anxiety. By the time I reach the restroom it feels like my sinuses have completely drained, and are entirely blocking my esophagus. No matter how many times I try to spit I still feel the lingering remnants, and I still have the fear that when I open my mouth to speak nothing will come out.
Back in the closet I sit down at a small cushioned chair and open my bible. I thumb through the pages that I have marked, ensuring myself that they are the perfect verses for the occasion. I cautiously read over my notes to reassure myself that I will tread a line of strong emotional depth and evangelism without making anyone in the room feel uncomfortable being in the pew. I want people to know my heart. I want them to know that there is only one way to heaven, and only so much time to find the way. However, I also want them to feel like the God who became man to save them from death is approachable. They need a strong dose of hope with just a little fear to fuel the fire.
There is a small peep hole in the door leading out to the sanctuary. As I look out of this portal into my future, I can only see half of the room, and it is completely empty. I know the people who will fill this half of the room, some of them personally but most of them only by occupation. I also know why the seats are empty. This half of the room is not anxious to enter a place where there can only be real emotion. Walls can only stand for so long before those seats break them down. My older brother had found out this fact only a moment earlier as the emotions finally sank in as he sat in a pew on that side of the room and wept. This is the side of the room that I so desperately want to talk to, but right now I fell like when I open my mouth they will only hear silence, and the whimpering noise of a child calling out for his father.
The last time I remember crying out for my father was when I was only three years old. It had only been a couple months since we had moved from my birthplace of Macomb, Illinois to Clearwater, Florida. As a young child I was prone to rolling right off of my bed, and it stuck with me until the day I rolled out of a bunk bed. Pain can quickly correct habits. On a hot, humid night in Clearwater I rolled out of my bed on to the rock hard linoleum floor. Reeling in pain from the crash, I rolled underneath the bed and became paralyzed with fear in the darkness. I yelled out for my dad. I am sure that he thought it was something much more serious, because it was an extremely rare occasion that I would scream for him and not for my mom. In my mind, this situation seemed too scary for my mom, it was something only dad could handle. He stormed into the room, but couldn’t find me. I continued to yell in the darkness, and he echoed back my name until our game of Marco Polo led to him discovering my location and saving me from the shadows.
I am sure there were other times I called out for my father’s help, but in all honesty I cannot remember them. My dad was unapproachable for most of his life. The world had made him a rough, cold, emotionless machine. For most of my time with him I feared him, avoided him, or was disgusted by him. So I guess the question you may have is, what am I going to say when I walk through that door? Why am I the one who will stand at the podium? Why have I been chosen to perform my father’s funeral?
Thanks!
I find myself in a storage closet. They claim it is the pastor’s study, but as my elbows bump into music stands, and I am forced to dodge and old worn out piano, I do not feel the comfort that a place of quiet mediation should bring upon its inhabitants. I pace back and forth in the cramped space trying to find my breath...my thoughts...my words. I sit down, stand up, pace some more. Minutes seem like days, and I am constantly reminded of my reason for being here. You cannot escape it in this place, it is not possible. The sounds, the smell, the frigid air, there is no mistaking where I am and why I am there.
Ever since I can remember, when my nerves are at their peak I have this unquenchable feeling that there is phlegm sticking to the back of my throat. I have a constant fear that I will open my mouth and not be able to speak because of the crippling concoction coming up from my lungs and into my throat. Every couple of minutes I leave the closet to search out a place where I can dislodge this mucus. As I walk through the halls, I avoid people’s eyes, but they have an inability to avoid me. Their words are everything but comforting. For the most part, they make me feel completely inadequate and only heighten my anxiety. By the time I reach the restroom it feels like my sinuses have completely drained, and are entirely blocking my esophagus. No matter how many times I try to spit I still feel the lingering remnants, and I still have the fear that when I open my mouth to speak nothing will come out.
Back in the closet I sit down at a small cushioned chair and open my bible. I thumb through the pages that I have marked, ensuring myself that they are the perfect verses for the occasion. I cautiously read over my notes to reassure myself that I will tread a line of strong emotional depth and evangelism without making anyone in the room feel uncomfortable being in the pew. I want people to know my heart. I want them to know that there is only one way to heaven, and only so much time to find the way. However, I also want them to feel like the God who became man to save them from death is approachable. They need a strong dose of hope with just a little fear to fuel the fire.
There is a small peep hole in the door leading out to the sanctuary. As I look out of this portal into my future, I can only see half of the room, and it is completely empty. I know the people who will fill this half of the room, some of them personally but most of them only by occupation. I also know why the seats are empty. This half of the room is not anxious to enter a place where there can only be real emotion. Walls can only stand for so long before those seats break them down. My older brother had found out this fact only a moment earlier as the emotions finally sank in as he sat in a pew on that side of the room and wept. This is the side of the room that I so desperately want to talk to, but right now I fell like when I open my mouth they will only hear silence, and the whimpering noise of a child calling out for his father.
The last time I remember crying out for my father was when I was only three years old. It had only been a couple months since we had moved from my birthplace of Macomb, Illinois to Clearwater, Florida. As a young child I was prone to rolling right off of my bed, and it stuck with me until the day I rolled out of a bunk bed. Pain can quickly correct habits. On a hot, humid night in Clearwater I rolled out of my bed on to the rock hard linoleum floor. Reeling in pain from the crash, I rolled underneath the bed and became paralyzed with fear in the darkness. I yelled out for my dad. I am sure that he thought it was something much more serious, because it was an extremely rare occasion that I would scream for him and not for my mom. In my mind, this situation seemed too scary for my mom, it was something only dad could handle. He stormed into the room, but couldn’t find me. I continued to yell in the darkness, and he echoed back my name until our game of Marco Polo led to him discovering my location and saving me from the shadows.
I am sure there were other times I called out for my father’s help, but in all honesty I cannot remember them. My dad was unapproachable for most of his life. The world had made him a rough, cold, emotionless machine. For most of my time with him I feared him, avoided him, or was disgusted by him. So I guess the question you may have is, what am I going to say when I walk through that door? Why am I the one who will stand at the podium? Why have I been chosen to perform my father’s funeral?
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Soul Revival February
From Elijah’s answer to God’s question, he must have been feeling pretty lonely. Some of it was his own fault; I mean he is the one who left his servant behind (1 Kings 19:3). The other part of his loneliness was a misconception that he was the only Israelite left who had not bowed down to another god or been killed. I can’t imagine walking for forty days and nights just thinking about how lonely I was and how miserable my life had become. However, I can relate with Elijah in some ways. I often feel alone, and it is also my own fault. I am horrible at relationships. I would have asked my servant to stay behind too, mostly because I wouldn’t have wanted to try to think of what to talk to him about for forty days and nights.
Crazy enough, God has been challenging me in this area of my life recently as well. I told Katie that I was deeming this month “Soul Revival February.” I have been getting into my Bible, praying, reading Streams in the Dessert each day and digging into to the book Reaching Out, by Henri Nouwen. To say God has been changing the way I look at the relationships I have with the people around me is an understatement. He has been creating major shifts in thinking that have rattled my entire framework of interacting with people. He has been working to break down barriers to meaningful relationships that I have had in my mind longer than I can remember.
I am anti-social. I have never really been able to put my finger on why I am anti-social, but I know that I am. The awkwardness of meeting new people scares me like airplane bathrooms scare a person with claustrophobia. This fear comes from my desire to find some easy overlap between my life and the person I am meeting. When this overlap does not come easy, I lose all ability to relate.
Let me try to make this clearer than the thoughts in my head. I am not that in to sports, I don’t really like the outdoors all that much and, for all of you John Eldredge fans, I am not “wild at heart.” So, I fear conversations with men because according to Eldredge, and most of the church, I may be living in sin if I don’t want to climb mountains and kill animals. Without this immediate connection, I fear being unable to build a meaningful relationship.
For all of my life I have placed the blame for me being bad at making friends on everyone else. Nouwen said, “Hey Jordan, maybe you are the problem.” I said, “No way…but since it Soul Revival February I will hear you out.”
Reaching Out discusses three spiritual movements, but I have really seen the book so far as a guide to relationships. The first epiphany is that I have no right to expect anybody to be anybody but themselves. We claim to be a very individualistic society, but at the same time expect others to be very similar to ourselves. At least I do. When I find out they are different, I don’t know how to relate and I leave them behind like the servant. Nouwen says,
“We can strengthen each other by mutual respect, by careful consideration of each other’s individuality, by an obedient distance from each other’s privacy and by a reverent understanding of the sacredness of the human heart.”
Wow, so Nouwen is saying that the beauty of relationships is not the overlap of our lives. The beauty is in the differences, that vast space between us, that we must cross to be in relationships. That gap that I run from in fear is the space where God is present, and I have been avoiding it all my life. Try to imagine a sphere of water, like earth. On the sphere is a bunch of floating islands, all unique besides that fact that they are all floating in the same water. The water represents God’s presence and the islands represent us. In order to build relationship we have to cross this huge expanse of water that is frightening. There are crashing waves, and who-knows-what kind of creatures lurking in the deep waters, but when we reach the other island we understand ourselves, God and each other in ways that can change our lives.
When I can begin to see others as wholly separate from myself, but basking in the same presence of God, I can no longer run in fear. I have to run in faith towards God’s presence, and towards relationship with others. Elijah feared that he was the last person to be in the presence of God, but God showed him that there were still Israelites who were faithful to Him. The thing about Jesus is that His life abolished the fear of no one else being in His presence. Being in relationship with Him is no longer set aside for the Israelites, but is open to us all.
Being in relationship with others is so important to our walk with God. Nouwen asks the question, how would life have been different if the widow would have refused a relationship with Elijah (1 Kings 17:7-24)? I mean, no one would have faulted her. He probably looked like a scary homeless man, and he was asking for the last of her food and water. However, if she wouldn’t have entered that relationship in faith, her and her son may have starved to death, and even if they had survived, her son would have died from illness. How much easier should it be for me to enter in to a relationship with someone who I just feel like I wouldn’t relate to very well? How much easier should it be for me to have faith that God can do His best work through relationships with people who are completely different from me? There may be rough waters, people may still annoy me most of the time, but when we meet in the presence of God there is only room for growth.
Crazy enough, God has been challenging me in this area of my life recently as well. I told Katie that I was deeming this month “Soul Revival February.” I have been getting into my Bible, praying, reading Streams in the Dessert each day and digging into to the book Reaching Out, by Henri Nouwen. To say God has been changing the way I look at the relationships I have with the people around me is an understatement. He has been creating major shifts in thinking that have rattled my entire framework of interacting with people. He has been working to break down barriers to meaningful relationships that I have had in my mind longer than I can remember.
I am anti-social. I have never really been able to put my finger on why I am anti-social, but I know that I am. The awkwardness of meeting new people scares me like airplane bathrooms scare a person with claustrophobia. This fear comes from my desire to find some easy overlap between my life and the person I am meeting. When this overlap does not come easy, I lose all ability to relate.
Let me try to make this clearer than the thoughts in my head. I am not that in to sports, I don’t really like the outdoors all that much and, for all of you John Eldredge fans, I am not “wild at heart.” So, I fear conversations with men because according to Eldredge, and most of the church, I may be living in sin if I don’t want to climb mountains and kill animals. Without this immediate connection, I fear being unable to build a meaningful relationship.
For all of my life I have placed the blame for me being bad at making friends on everyone else. Nouwen said, “Hey Jordan, maybe you are the problem.” I said, “No way…but since it Soul Revival February I will hear you out.”
Reaching Out discusses three spiritual movements, but I have really seen the book so far as a guide to relationships. The first epiphany is that I have no right to expect anybody to be anybody but themselves. We claim to be a very individualistic society, but at the same time expect others to be very similar to ourselves. At least I do. When I find out they are different, I don’t know how to relate and I leave them behind like the servant. Nouwen says,
“We can strengthen each other by mutual respect, by careful consideration of each other’s individuality, by an obedient distance from each other’s privacy and by a reverent understanding of the sacredness of the human heart.”
Wow, so Nouwen is saying that the beauty of relationships is not the overlap of our lives. The beauty is in the differences, that vast space between us, that we must cross to be in relationships. That gap that I run from in fear is the space where God is present, and I have been avoiding it all my life. Try to imagine a sphere of water, like earth. On the sphere is a bunch of floating islands, all unique besides that fact that they are all floating in the same water. The water represents God’s presence and the islands represent us. In order to build relationship we have to cross this huge expanse of water that is frightening. There are crashing waves, and who-knows-what kind of creatures lurking in the deep waters, but when we reach the other island we understand ourselves, God and each other in ways that can change our lives.
When I can begin to see others as wholly separate from myself, but basking in the same presence of God, I can no longer run in fear. I have to run in faith towards God’s presence, and towards relationship with others. Elijah feared that he was the last person to be in the presence of God, but God showed him that there were still Israelites who were faithful to Him. The thing about Jesus is that His life abolished the fear of no one else being in His presence. Being in relationship with Him is no longer set aside for the Israelites, but is open to us all.
Being in relationship with others is so important to our walk with God. Nouwen asks the question, how would life have been different if the widow would have refused a relationship with Elijah (1 Kings 17:7-24)? I mean, no one would have faulted her. He probably looked like a scary homeless man, and he was asking for the last of her food and water. However, if she wouldn’t have entered that relationship in faith, her and her son may have starved to death, and even if they had survived, her son would have died from illness. How much easier should it be for me to enter in to a relationship with someone who I just feel like I wouldn’t relate to very well? How much easier should it be for me to have faith that God can do His best work through relationships with people who are completely different from me? There may be rough waters, people may still annoy me most of the time, but when we meet in the presence of God there is only room for growth.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Separation Anxiety
I want to talk about Elijah’s, for lack of a better term, separation anxiety.
As I was thinking about the idea of mountain top experiences, I came across a misconception in my head that was actually in my last post previous to editing. I didn’t know why I removed it, but it just didn’t seem to fit. Since deleting it, God has shown me, through the works of some great authors and alone time with Him, why I was lead to remove this misconception.
When I think of mountain top experiences, I think of highs and lows or ups and downs. I would say that most of us have a man made concept that God is above us. This is obviously true in a figurative sense, but not necessarily true in a physical sense. However, we see heaven as some place UP in the sky, and therefore see God as UP there as well. So, my natural inclination when I think of mountain top experiences is to think of those experiences in relationship to our closeness to God. When we are high on the mountain top we are close to God, and when we are in the valleys we are far from God. I now know that I am completely wrong in that assumption, but it gives some insight into Elijah’s story, and another way to see how it relates to our own lives, or at least mine.
Elijah must have felt that God had abandoned Him, at least for a second, because he was so fearful of Jezebel after he had just seen the amazing power of God. In this moment of perceived separation he felt completely alone, and feared that no one was present who would stand by him. So he ran away. He thought that because he was no longer on the mountain top, that God was no longer with him. This could not have been, and can never be, further from the truth.
For Christmas, I received a daily devotional called Streams in the Desert by Mrs. L.B. Cowan. Cowan took care of her ill husband for six years until his death and from her experiences came this devotional. The name of the book could not be more telling. In a time where I have been feeling like I am in a drought, her words are like mouthfuls of cold water. In the January 31st entry she writes,
“ ‘He giveth quietness’ – quietness even in the midst of losing our inner strength and comforts. Sometimes He removes these because we make too much of them. We are tempted to look at our joys, pleasures, passions, or our dreams, with too much satisfaction.”
In the middle of the valleys, as God feels far away, He is giving us an opportunity to lean in to Him. However, the other truth is that when we feel He is far away we are fooling ourselves. If we believe that difficult times are only products of separation from God, then we ignore the comfort of knowing He is never out of reach. 2 Corinthians 1:5 says: “For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows.” When I read a verse that uses the word suffering I think physical pain, and physical pain can definitely be a time of suffering. However, dealing with our brokenness bears suffering as well, when we know God but forget His love for us there is suffering. In that suffering comes an opportunity to look to God for comfort and grow closer to Him. Cowan combines scripture from Isaiah and 2 Thessalonians to create this image of what God is telling us:
“I ‘am a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering.’ I have allowed your earthly comforters to fail you so that by turning to me you may receive ‘eternal encouragement and good hope’”
God doesn’t ask questions to learn, He already knows the answers. When He asks questions it is too teach. You see this time and time again with Jesus’ ministry on earth, and you see this vividly in the story of Elijah at Mount Horeb. God did not ask Elijah why he was there because He didn’t know the answer. I think He was asking so that Elijah would hopefully hear how misguided his answer was. This idea that he had fought so hard, was the only one left standing and now would be sentenced to a horrible death as well could only come from an idea that God had left him alone. God gives Elijah a chance to rethink this thought by showing Him his amazing power, and then speaking to Him in a close and personal whisper. Elijah answers the question in the same pitiful way. God could have become frustrated and said, “Fine, you are alone. So, you can die in this cave or you can die by the sword of Jezebel. I have used you for what I need, and could care less about what happens to you now. You have had your mountain top experience, and now I need some space.” That is not our God. He cures his fears of loneliness and tells him the plans He has for him.
So, how does this relate to our lives? When we realize that God is not up, or down, or east, or west we will know that if we seek Him we will find Him. When we realize He is as present in the valleys as He is on the mountain tops, we can begin to listen for His whisper. When we get to a place where we feel alone, forsaken, and drowning in pride, we can ask ourselves what God asked Elijah: “Why are you here?” The true answer to that question will not come from ourselves. The true answer will come in seeing how God has been present in the journey to that point, and, in the personality of God, it may come in the form of another question: “Where should you be?”
As I was thinking about the idea of mountain top experiences, I came across a misconception in my head that was actually in my last post previous to editing. I didn’t know why I removed it, but it just didn’t seem to fit. Since deleting it, God has shown me, through the works of some great authors and alone time with Him, why I was lead to remove this misconception.
When I think of mountain top experiences, I think of highs and lows or ups and downs. I would say that most of us have a man made concept that God is above us. This is obviously true in a figurative sense, but not necessarily true in a physical sense. However, we see heaven as some place UP in the sky, and therefore see God as UP there as well. So, my natural inclination when I think of mountain top experiences is to think of those experiences in relationship to our closeness to God. When we are high on the mountain top we are close to God, and when we are in the valleys we are far from God. I now know that I am completely wrong in that assumption, but it gives some insight into Elijah’s story, and another way to see how it relates to our own lives, or at least mine.
Elijah must have felt that God had abandoned Him, at least for a second, because he was so fearful of Jezebel after he had just seen the amazing power of God. In this moment of perceived separation he felt completely alone, and feared that no one was present who would stand by him. So he ran away. He thought that because he was no longer on the mountain top, that God was no longer with him. This could not have been, and can never be, further from the truth.
For Christmas, I received a daily devotional called Streams in the Desert by Mrs. L.B. Cowan. Cowan took care of her ill husband for six years until his death and from her experiences came this devotional. The name of the book could not be more telling. In a time where I have been feeling like I am in a drought, her words are like mouthfuls of cold water. In the January 31st entry she writes,
“ ‘He giveth quietness’ – quietness even in the midst of losing our inner strength and comforts. Sometimes He removes these because we make too much of them. We are tempted to look at our joys, pleasures, passions, or our dreams, with too much satisfaction.”
In the middle of the valleys, as God feels far away, He is giving us an opportunity to lean in to Him. However, the other truth is that when we feel He is far away we are fooling ourselves. If we believe that difficult times are only products of separation from God, then we ignore the comfort of knowing He is never out of reach. 2 Corinthians 1:5 says: “For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows.” When I read a verse that uses the word suffering I think physical pain, and physical pain can definitely be a time of suffering. However, dealing with our brokenness bears suffering as well, when we know God but forget His love for us there is suffering. In that suffering comes an opportunity to look to God for comfort and grow closer to Him. Cowan combines scripture from Isaiah and 2 Thessalonians to create this image of what God is telling us:
“I ‘am a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering.’ I have allowed your earthly comforters to fail you so that by turning to me you may receive ‘eternal encouragement and good hope’”
God doesn’t ask questions to learn, He already knows the answers. When He asks questions it is too teach. You see this time and time again with Jesus’ ministry on earth, and you see this vividly in the story of Elijah at Mount Horeb. God did not ask Elijah why he was there because He didn’t know the answer. I think He was asking so that Elijah would hopefully hear how misguided his answer was. This idea that he had fought so hard, was the only one left standing and now would be sentenced to a horrible death as well could only come from an idea that God had left him alone. God gives Elijah a chance to rethink this thought by showing Him his amazing power, and then speaking to Him in a close and personal whisper. Elijah answers the question in the same pitiful way. God could have become frustrated and said, “Fine, you are alone. So, you can die in this cave or you can die by the sword of Jezebel. I have used you for what I need, and could care less about what happens to you now. You have had your mountain top experience, and now I need some space.” That is not our God. He cures his fears of loneliness and tells him the plans He has for him.
So, how does this relate to our lives? When we realize that God is not up, or down, or east, or west we will know that if we seek Him we will find Him. When we realize He is as present in the valleys as He is on the mountain tops, we can begin to listen for His whisper. When we get to a place where we feel alone, forsaken, and drowning in pride, we can ask ourselves what God asked Elijah: “Why are you here?” The true answer to that question will not come from ourselves. The true answer will come in seeing how God has been present in the journey to that point, and, in the personality of God, it may come in the form of another question: “Where should you be?”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
