Lament

Teach us to lament with You,

O God.

We feel Your grief; it rises strong

in us.

The hurt that fills Your heart

now floods

our own and makes us know

that You—

Ancient and Wise beyond our grasp—

still feel

the brokenness and pain that seem

always 

to come, to cut, to curse, to cure.

And yet,

You have not made Yourself

exempt

from all the harm of humanness.

You came,

and as a Man, You shared our lot.

You bore 

the bitter days of darkness, worlds

of grief;

absorbed into Your heart 

the ache

of all that evil’s rage has marred

in us.

Your life and death continue on:

the Church

reflects You, Three-in-One.

We share

with You in life and death, relationships and harm

and grief,

and, weeping, raise our own

lament.

God is Happy with You

Thoughts from Psalm 149.

“...let the children of Zion rejoice in their King!

For the Lord takes pleasure in His people...

...let them sing for joy on their beds.”

Did you catch that? Did you hear what the psalmist just said? "Be happy," he says, and then tells you why: “because God takes pleasure in you.”

Among the reasons for joy, this is an unexpected one. 
Did you know, human being, that you make God happy?

And He wants you to be happy about making Him happy and also happy that He’s happy with you.

According to the psalmist, it’s the kind of happiness that you take with you to bed and night and enjoy as you prepare to go to sleep. "Let them sing for joy on their beds." (You know how you felt when you found out that that person that you liked actually liked you back...it’s like that.) You make God happy, and God is happy with you. Child of the royal city, be glad.

“Child of the royal city.” Child of the royal city: that's kind of an interesting title, though. Does it remind you of anything else?
It should. 
It should remind you that, a couple thousand years later, this message about God being happy with you hasn’t changed.
A long time after the psalmist wrote his song, some angels came to earth and sang something really similar:

“Don’t be afraid, because I’m bringing you good news of great joy for all people: a Child has been born in the royal city, and He is the Savior. You can go see Him....Praise to God in heaven, and here on earth, peace for those with whom He is pleased” (Luke 2).

There it is again: there’s good news to make you happy.

God is here, and He is pleased with you.

And He always will be. Because the Child born in the royal city is ruling the Royal City now, and He’s going to gather you and all the other children of the Royal City to come be with Him. He’s the King, and He delights in His people.

Sit back.

Take it all in.

Think about it for a long time and let it sink in (even Mary had to do that, and she was there).

Take it to bed with you and turn it over in your head and heart till you fall asleep.

God is here, and He is happy with you.

One-Way Glass

“We see in a mirror dimly,” says Paul in his letter to the Corinthian church. "But," he promises, “face to face will happen." One day.
It reminds me of one-way glass. One-way glass is reflective, but as a mirror, it’s not great, AND you know that the people on the other side can totally see you. You are seen, yet cannot see: not even yourself, at least not very well. And this is life on earth. We don’t see anything clearly. We can’t see through the glass (though we are conscious of being seen and known), and we can’t discern our own surroundings really definitively. And it is hard. Frustrating. Sad. Dissatisfying. We were made to be known and to know, and the one-sidedness aches something deep inside of us. But, says God, if you want a taste of the future knowing and being known, love. Love, because it’s part of the eternal state, will give you a taste of the future, the other side of the glass. So while you’re here, scrunch your face up against the one-way glass and love hard.

Sick People and the Promises

Started writing this during my church's Easter morning worship service and finished it out later.

A symphony of coughs echoes throughout the auditorium. By this alone, you can know that we are a sick people. It is a telltale sign. Minor, you might say. Yes, sure. But a sign nonetheless.

We are a sick people. Diseased with physical illness, all kinds of weakness, sorrow, darkness, pain, sin, and death.

We hurt and ache and hurt some more. And some of it is our own fault and some of it is not, and even when it’s no one’s fault, and no one’s done anything wrong or bad, hurt still happens simply because of our finite limitations. Even if we avoid the bad, we can’t get around to doing all the good that needs to be done, and so there are still gaps and inadequacies and disillusionments.

And this is the way it is. It is life in a broken world. And none of us knows when it will end.

O God.

God.

What in the world?!?! Why must it be so?

Hear my groaning, You whose ear is open.

Do You see us, God? Do You see us tattered people? We gathered this morning to worship You. We wanted to worship and please You (though we sometimes feel like that’s impossible), so we came. But we came. It was us. The broken, the lamed, the hurting, the weak, the poor, the needy. The most we could bring was ourselves. And we are sick.

But, God, You call everyone who comes. We thought we were coming to You on our own, but we find out we are actually here because You wanted us. You put out a call, and we heard it. We came. And we came sick. It’s our tacit acknowledgement of what Jesus said: people who are well don’t need a doctor, but sick people do. “I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” So here we are. And though we don’t always know it in so many words, we also came because we believe You. We gathered because somewhere deep inside of us at a place where words don’t often reach and where our hopes and desires are usually hidden even to ourselves, we know that You are the only One who can help us. Our coming here is kinda like a mute version of the leper’s words to Jesus: “If You are willing, You can make me clean.”

And Jesus put out His hand and touched the leper and said, “I am willing. Be clean.”

But it’s not going to look like that for most of us most of the time though, right? Feeling Jesus’ hand. Instantly healed. That’s not the way it usually works (even though You do that from time to time). Where does that leave us?

Right. I know: “Righteous people live by faith.” Well. That’s why we gather, right? It’s an act of faith. We believe. We believe that it is good and right and pleasing, that it's helpful and healing, to come together to pursue You. We believe that there is grace to be found in obeying Your commands. We believe You, and so we come. And in coming, we demonstrate - most of us perhaps unconsciously - that we do trust what You’ve said. That even when we can hardly feel them or consciously hope in them at all, somehow (because of the Spirit in us) we hold the promises to be true. One day there will be no more crying. There won’t even be any more coughing.

All will be well.

A Prayer in Dark Times

Psalm 66

For You, O God, have tested us;

You have tried us as silver is tried.

You brought us into the net;

You laid a crushing burden on our backs;

You let men ride over our heads;

we went through fire and through water....

There are places that none of us would choose for ourselves;

yet God chooses them for us at times. 

This prayer is from one of those times and those places.

These days are so long and painful. The hours drag. Even the minutes do. I want to quit. I want out. But You’re not going to let me out, are You? And that’s good of You. I believe that. But there’s no end in sight to all of the hardest things. I can’t keep doing this. And You’re just progressively upping the ante. It’s getting harder and more expensive. You’re playing to win big. I want to tell You that You’ve chosen the wrong teammate. But I know You’ve already won – the victory is not dependent on Your “teammates.” I want to tell You that I don’t care to play, that I’ll just pass until it’s game over, but I know that You want me to play with You. You’re not forcing me to play; You’re inviting me to be with You. You don’t force Yourself on us; that’s not how You work. You actually love us and want us to be with You (and who can resist being actually wanted by You?). I want to tell You that it’s too much, that I can’t bear up under this crushing load. But You give strength for what You put on us. But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels crushing. And sometimes You do crush people. You crushed Your Son, and it brought salvation for the world. What will You bring through my crushing? How will You bring salvation and for whom? Will You intervene in answer to my prayers for my people? I hurt. I want to scream or to cry. But I can’t do either. There’s no outlet for the pain. Just the silent imploding inside…and the darkness. You’ve been there too. I know. So You’re not afraid of it, and You’re not going to abandon me to it. You’ve been through it and have come out the other side. And somehow when You walked through all this, You tapped into the joy that was waiting on the other side. I’m afraid of wanting to want joy. I’m afraid of joy. I’m afraid it would break me. Like pouring warm water on a frozen windshield – that I would shatter. But You didn’t. You were going through the absolute worst, and You kept Your eyes on joy, and it helped You endure. Help me open my eyes and look through the darkness toward the light. And in this suffering, give me Yourself. 

And at the risk of being trite at the end of a serious post, I'll share this bit of humor from a sign in a local coffee shop restroom. The final line seemed very appropriate on the particular day that I read it. He knows how to provoke a smile even in the dark times. 

Failure and Mercy

Some observations from Solomon’s life on the character of God and His dealings with people (aka, the mercy of God and failings of men):

1 Kings 2-3 describes the early part of Solomon’s reign as he settled into ruling the nation of Israel and settling out the matters of business that David had handed off to him. Towards the very beginning of his reign, he began violating some of the laws that God had given about worship and kingship. We are going to take a look at the interaction between God, Solomon, and the Israelites and see some beautiful glimpses of God’s nature and how He treats His flawed children.

1 Kings 3:1-5

Solomon made a marriage alliance with Pharaoh king of Egypt. He took Pharaoh's daughter and brought her into the city of David until he had finished building his own house and the house of the LORD and the wall around Jerusalem. The people were sacrificing at the high places, however, because no house had yet been built for the name of the LORD.

Solomon loved the LORD, walking in the statutes of David his father, only he sacrificed and made offerings at the high places. And the king went to Gibeon to sacrifice there, for that was the great high place. Solomon used to offer a thousand burnt offerings on that altar. At Gibeon the LORD appeared to Solomon in a dream by night, and God said, “Ask what I shall give you.”

Several fascinating things in this short text:

1. God had forbidden the Israelites in general to intermarry with other nations, and He had specifically forbidden kings of Israel to intermarry for the purpose of forming political alliances. 1 Kings 3 starts off by saying that Solomon made a marriage alliance with the king of Egypt. (We are noting this, but will not be discussing it further right now.)
2. God had forbidden the Israelites to sacrifice on the high places like the surrounding nations customarily did. They were doing it anyways: “because no house had yet been built for the name of the Lord.” (Note: We usually believe that we have “good” reasons for doing what God has told us not to do.)
3. The text plainly states that “Solomon loved the LORD.”
4. Solomon himself made sacrifices on the high places (and you can tell that God hadn’t changed his mind about the high places, because after saying that “Solomon loved the LORD, walking in the statutes,” the text notes “only he sacrificed and made offerings at the high places” as the exception to that).
5. Solomon goes to a high place in Gibeon (this also seems totally unnecessary, since the Tabernacle was right there in Jerusalem with him). And God comes to him there.

12/14/2017 - Correction to original post:

I learned something this week! I've continued reading through the Historical Books, and I reached 2 Chronicles this last week. 2 Chronicles 1 recounts the same scene that recorded in 2 Kings 3. The 2 Chronicles text tells us that the Tabernacle was located in Gibeon at the time. (Interesting that the ark of God was in Jerusalem, but the Tabernacle was still in Gibeon.) This added information, though, does shed light on Solomon's trip to Gibeon, and I wanted to note it here as a correction to my original post.

God comes to him there. There: in Gibeon. A high place. God meets him there. And God meets him there to bless him. One of the most well-known Solomon moments - where he has this conversation with God and asks for wisdom, and God gives it to him - happens at a high place. What?

Ancient Mayan Temple

Here’s the thing: God’s thoughts are not our thoughts, and His ways are not our ways. He’s not the way we often imagine Him to be. We know that He’s so big and holy. He is powerful and commanding and righteous and completely authoritative. He has the right to make any rules He wants and to enforce those rules and to fiercely punish even the slightest aberration to them. He’s written a sense of His power and Divine right into our human consciousness (Rom. 1), and that is the grace of general revelation. Yet we often imagine Him to be a harsh and malicious authority figure, tracking our every movement and ready to punish when we make the slightest mistake or break a single command that He’s given. Deep inside our hearts, we tend to have this dread of Him. We neither worship Him for His greatness nor trust Him for His goodness. By birth and by choice, we are enemies of God in our hearts, and we treat Him with suspicion. We try to keep our lives to ourselves and out from under His nose, all the while resenting the fact that avoiding Him entirely isn’t an option. (Look, I know that we would never put it into so many words! We don’t consciously think this about God, but if it surprises you that God meets with Solomon at a high place [and it should surprise you, if you’ve read the Pentateuch well!], then you can be sure that something inside you is suspicious of God and that something in you believes that you have to do everything just right in order for God to meet with you.

But God is surprising. He is surprisingly full of mercy and grace. Do we really think that 10,000 years (and counting!) of human failure and rebellion is enough to exhaust the mercy of God? The Scriptures say that He is rich in it! Beyond that, He is a God who loves relationship. He delights to know and to be known. He loves steadfast love: both the giving and the receiving of it. He is not seeking perfection from us; He doesn’t expect that. (He Himself has provided a perfect righteousness that will be freely imputed to us [Rom. 5].) He is seeking those whose hearts are toward Him (2 Chron. 16:9). He wants people who worship Him in Spirit and in truth (John 4). He desires steadfast love more than sacrifice and to be known more than burnt offerings (Hos. 6:6; Matt. 9:13; 12:7). He is like a compassionate father, and He remembers that we are made out of dust (Ps. 103:13-14). And so He comes to us. Again and again, He comes to us. He finds us where we are: shame-filled Adam and Eve in the garden, misdirected Solomon at the high place, depressed Elijah out in the desert, runaway Jonah in a ship and angry Jonah on the hill, curious Zaccheus in the tree, guilty-sad Peter by the Sea of Galilee, raging Saul on the way to Damascus, and so on and on. He comes to us. This is the kind of God that He is.

So, fellow-believer, friend who needs mercy, don't try to hide your failure; don't think He expects you to get your act together first. Turn your face to Him; ask Him for help for your heart. We call this "faith," and it pleases Him. Righteous people live by faith: faith in Jesus. Jesus knows exactly who you are and where you are, and He is the kind of God who will come to meet you. That's why His name is Jesus: He comes (Immanuel), and He saves His people from their sins.

Tropism

Do you remember learning about "tropism" in the plant section of your 4th grade science book? You know, phototropism, hydrotropism, and thigmotropism? I remember being intrigued and looking for examples of tropisms in the plants around me.

The Biology Online dictionary defines "tropism" as "A movement or growth response of a cell or an organism to a stimulus, which may either be positive or negative depending on the source and kind of stimulation." The entry goes on to differentiate "tropism" from similar phenomena such as "kinesis" or "taxis" and then offers examples of various kinds of "tropism."

You wanted to know all of that, right? (But really, it's pretty cool.)

Over the years, the idea of tropism has grown deeper roots in my life. According to the Bible, the God who made the world, crafts each human individually, and orders every day with personal attention and care is continually calling people to come to Him and to know Him. He's always pursuing relationship with people. There's a very real sense in which He intends for every single facet of your life in every single stage of your life to act as a stimulus in your relationship with Him. The Christian's interaction with life should be "theotropic."

That being said, I wanted to share two tropism parables with you.

1). Thigmotropism (response to touch stimuli).

I wrote this little poem-prayer back when I was in school (and when I thought that writing poetry in Elizabethan English was a thing. I've since learned differently. Don't judge.).

Thigmotropy

As vining plant, when touched by stick,

In glad dependence graspeth quick,

Let me, dear Lord, when touched by Thee,

Display a like thigmotropy.

2). Heliotropism (response to the sun).

When I took a walk a few evenings ago, I noticed these field clovers craning their necks west, turning full face toward the setting sun. The responsiveness of the plants to the sun echoed in my own heart as a prayer for myself and the people I love: "May our hearts always turn toward You like that."

What have you seen recently that has helped your heart grow toward God?

"No One has Ever Seen God"

"No one has ever seen God."

This phrase appears twice in John's writings: a simple statement of fact.

There's an obvious reality that God is spirit, and we cannot see Him. We who believe in God do so by faith and, like it says in Hebrews 11, live "as seeing Him who is invisible."

Towards the beginning of his gospel, however, John points out that there is an exception to the whole not seeing God thing. He writes, "No one has ever seen God; the only God, who is at the Father's side, he has made him known" (Jn 1:18).

Here's the exception: although no one has seen the Father, the Son came and revealed Him. To see Jesus is to see God. Those who look on Jesus see "the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ" (2 Cor. 4). For 33 years, God walked the earth, and people saw His face. This is a beautiful and deep truth, but if you believe what the Bible says about Jesus being God, then at some level, it's still a reasonable/understandable concept.

Later in his life, though, John writes a couple of letters, and in his first letter, he brings up the subject of seeing God again. "No one has ever seen God;" he says, but "if we love one another, God abides in us and his love is perfected in us" (1 Jn 4:12).

Wait. What?

The first time that we read "no one has ever seen God," we are reminded that Jesus is an exception to that.

The second time that we read "no one has ever seen God," we are told that love among believers is an exception to that.

Don't miss the weight and profoundness of this!

(In fact, if you have any questions about what John is implying here, go back and read the larger contexts in which these two texts appear. The contexts totally support the intentional parallel of Christ bringing the fullness and knowledge of God to us, our receiving it, and then our being enabled to pass it along.)

In my church, we've been studying about Heaven during our morning services (highly recommend the series!). So as I've been thinking about this phrase from John's writings, it's mingled with thoughts about Heaven, and here's one of my main takeaways:

In Heaven, we will see the face of God. But today, others can see the face of God in the mutual love of believers. Others will recognize the face of God from seeing His love being given and received among His people. So, when I love my brothers and sisters like God does, I, like Jesus, am letting people see God, and I can do so now in a way that will not be mine to do (at least in the same way) in eternity.

God, please let it be that I and my brothers and sisters would so "keep ourselves in the love of God," that we live it out incessantly in ways that make You known/visible in our relationships with each other today. We believe You to be the Most Beautiful and Winsome of Beings, and we want You to be known and loved. We are amazed to think that anyone could catch a glimpse of Your face in us; it's the greatest honor we could ever have. (Like, the more I think about it, the more mind-blowing it is.) Let our gratitude and gladness find full expression today. In others words, let me and my brothers and sisters love each other so thoroughly today that someone gets to see Your face in ours. That would be more amazing than we could put into words. And give us faith to believe that You actually intend to reveal Yourself to others through us!