The goal as one

God has set apart the faithful for himself. Daily I feel the pull of a world that craves inclusiveness. "Join us. Our unity is our strength."

The goal is to speak as one. And I think of Babel. There, the people joined to a build a tower to their own abilities. Some think they united to build stair steps to heaven, to enter the divine kingdom.

God rejected their efforts, knowing that this kind of unity would lead them into more trouble. If they built this tower, they'd work together for other projects that would not lead them to God but to further depravity.

Unity in God is a beautiful thing. Unity without God leads to projects that serve lower desires.

To be set apart for God is to be given the freedom to pursue the things of Philippians:

whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things. (Phil 4:8)

Making a way

When it comes to humility, John the Baptist was no slouch of an example.

Today's evangelists tend to prefer plush travel conditions and a detailed list of requirements for their visits, but John declared himself unfit to even untie the sandals of the Messiah.

John had a successful ministry with many disciples and followers. Crowds followed him to the Jordan where he preached repentance and baptism.

Yet his defining statement was quoted in John 3:30: "He must increase but I must decrease."

In that context, I find it interesting that he compared himself to the prophecy of Isaiah. When the team sent by the Pharisees to judge his ministry asked him who he was, he said, "I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness,'Make straight the way of the Lord,'" as the prophet Isaiah said. (John 1:23)

Is it odd for a man of such humility to declare himself to be the fulfillment of an old prophecy? John was so confident of his mission that he didn't use the prophecy to elevate himself, but to elevate his mission. He was called to clear a path.

Israel's terrain is very uneven, from desert to mountain. Those listening to Isaiah many years before would have understood how important a clear road would be. John referred to the same idea in explaining his mission. His job was to build an interstate highway for the Messiah.

John serves as a powerful model for us today. He was confident in what he had to do but had no concern that doing it would elevate him. He was not climbing a corporate ladder but simply making a way for someone else.

Can we do the same?

From the ground

Then the Lord God formed the man out of the dust from the ground and breathed the breath of life into his nostrils,
and the man became a living being. (Gen 2:7)

We are formed from earth. Yesterday, I wrote about the root word for humility being humus - where we get our word for ground.

But I missed this connection, that God formed Adam out of the dust from the ground. Our beginnings are ground - humus - and at that point, before sin, we had God's breath poured into us.

Humility is our foundation, our beginning. We were created to be humble and our sin comes when we try to supplant our humus with pride.

We have our model. Jesus, fully God and fully man, came from the perfection of heaven to serve:

Jesus said, "It is finished." With that, he bowed his head
and gave up his spirit.

John 19:30

Grounded

Interestingly, the root word for humble is humus, from which we get our word for ground.

Being humble means being grounded - and being under people's feet. Today, be humus!

The perfect business Part 2

Jesus used stories to make his point over and over again. As we wrestle with those parables, we gain understanding into the ways of God.

Yesterday, we looked at the parable of the vineyard from Mark 12. We came to the point of the vineyard, which had to do with paying what we owe.

Do we pay God what we owe him?

The renters in the story felt they could get out of paying their rent by rejecting God’s messengers. At one level, that’s a picture of Israel rejecting the prophets of the Old Testament. And the Pharisees and scribes rejecting Jesus, the son.

Which lets us off the hook.

But this story doesn’t let us off the hook.

What do we owe God?

Interestingly, Mark 12 ends with another story that’s probably familiar to you.

In that story, Jesus watches a poor widow drop in two small copper coins – all she had. He praises her generosity.

In comparison to the huge offerings of the rich, her portion was nothing. But she gave what she felt she owed.

By giving up what she had to live on, she was trusting God to provide for her. She didn’t need to hoard two small copper coins because she had access to landlord himself.

We asked yesterday, what do we owe God?

It kinda looks to me like Jesus was saying, “you owe it all.”

The perfect business

It was the perfect turnkey business, already prepared for success. The landowner had planted the vineyard already, knowing it’d take several years before the fruit appeared. Meanwhile, he built a wall around the field and installed a winepress for when the grapes were juicy and ripe.

He even constructed a watchtower, because plenty of predators – winged and walking – would try to steal the crop before it was ready.

So when he rented the field out, those in line knew this would be a successful business.

But a problem arose. The first harvest was lush and full but the renters didn’t want to pay their rent.

After the renters had abused the landlord’s representatives – and even the collection agency – the landlord decided to send his own son. The son knew the business well and was very good in communicating.

The renters killed the son, assuming that they’d get the field because the landlord now had no heirs.

They assumed wrongly, for the landlord destroyed the renters and gave the field instead to others.

What are we to make of this story? It is a parable of Jesus, told in Mark 12, and seems simply to condemn the religious leaders of the day. And there are parallels to them.

But there are parallels to us as well.

The bottom line in the story is that the renters, although given a field in perfect condition, refused to give the landlord what they owed him. And eventually the landlord destroyed them in their rebellion and gave the field to another.

Let’s make the parallel with what God has provided: a world that is well able to provide for all our needs. We live in a place of beauty and abundance. We can get gritchy, complaining about what we don’t have, but we’re not seeing that we have all we need for life abundantly.

How do we respond to that? Do we pay God what we owe him?


Tomorrow: what do we owe?

Humility is the blossom of which
death to self is the perfect fruit.

-Andrew Murray

What have you got to lose?

"He [Jesus] lost nothing by giving all to God."

-Humility by Andrew Murray

Esteem whom?

Lawrence described himself as a great awkward fellow who broke everything. He had no credentials and no stunning resume to show off.

Today we’d probably put him in self-esteem classes.

Brother Lawrence was a 17th century French man who worked in a monastery although he lacked the education to be called a monk. He labored in the kitchen most of his life but had many conversations about his relationship with God that have been recorded.

His story can be seen more fully here.

He was an achingly-humble man in a way that we’d find uncomfortable today. Not only did he acknowledge his clumsiness, but he also recognized his failures. “When I fail in my duty, I readily acknowledge it, saying, I am used to do so: I shall never do otherwise, if I am left to myself.”

Am I ready to say that I’m used to failure because I will fail if left to my own resources? That grinds against my independence and self-sufficiency.

And yet, Lawrence didn’t melt away into despair at the idea that he would fail. He was also clear-minded in knowing that he didn’t always fail.

But his successes were not reason for patting himself on the back.

He said, “If I fail not, then I give GOD thanks, acknowledging that it comes from Him.”

Lawrence knew plainly that when he failed, it was to be expected for he didn’t have the resources to do otherwise. When he succeeded, he thanked God because that’s where the success came from.

Where does our success come from? And do we recognize its source?

The Lord is my strength and my song; He has become my salvation.

Psalms 118:14

Beggars all

I was looking for gifts for my family back home but I had to walk a gauntlet of beggars first. Lining the sidewalk, they held out bent rusty cups or sometimes a small tray of gum or mashed dolls.

One old woman, shriveled into a tiny mass of wrinkles and dirt, caught my eye. Only the stubs of teeth lined her mouth and she was in rags. In desperation, she shoved a handful of trinkets in front of me. I gave her money.

Beggars are persistent. We’ve had them for centuries, desperate for their next meal and willing to do what it takes to get some help.

When Jesus walked through Jericho on his way to his encounter with Pilate in Jerusalem, he was hailed by a blind beggar. Although the crowd hushed him, the beggar could not be silenced. He was desperate and would not be stopped. He knew his need and he knew where to get help.

Oswald Chambers said, “A pauper does not ask from any other reason than the abject panging condition of his poverty; he is not ashamed to beg.”

Do I ask God for that which eases my life and fills my lusts? Or do I recognize that I am a beggar, desperate for his help?

“We will never receive if we ask with an end in view; if we ask, not out of our poverty but out of our lust,” said Chambers.

The blind beggar asked Jesus for mercy. Jesus gave him sight.

Do I recognize my own spiritual poverty?

Am I desperate for God’s handout?

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

(Matt 5:3)

A powerful duel

What to do with absolute power? That’s the question.

Here’s the scenario: the Assyrian king Sennacherib had sent a huge army to Jerusalem to conquer it as he’d conquered so many cities in the area. His general taunted Judah’s king, Hezekiah, and the people: you can’t resist the most powerful army on earth.

And, he added slyly, your God can’t stand up to us any more than any other god in the region has defied us. We are absolute power.

Hezekiah refused to buckle. He shed his kingly robes for the burlap of humility and went to God. He didn’t count his generals and number his soldiers. He didn’t strategize with his advisors. He laid out the problem before God.

And it was a classic dual: God vs. Sennacherib. Sennacherib was supremely confident, having never lost to a god before.

But this was no battle between swords and statues of silver. Sennacherib’s army was decimated in the night by the angel of God and he went running home to Nineveh, to meet the ultimate irony.

People in those ancient days understood that gods ruled in particular regions. Sennacherib assumed he was safe in Nineveh under the wing of his own god, Nisroch. But it was there, in the sanctuary of Nisroch, that Sennacherib died at the hands of his own sons.

Even with home field advantage, Nisroch was unable to defend the mighty king. Sennacherib died in the presence of his own god after being unable to pierce God’s defense of Jerusalem.

What a contrast in kings, between Hezekiah who came into God’s presence in humility while Sennacherib came in pride and confidence in his own power.

And what a contrast between deity, between God who is powerful and other gods who are smoke and mirrors.

Where do we rush when difficulties come? Hezekiah put on humble robes and trusted God. It made all the difference.

"O LORD Almighty, God of Israel, enthroned between the cherubim, you alone are God over all the kingdoms of the earth. You have made heaven and earth.”

Isaiah 37:16

The date night

Last week, Matt needed some nails for a project and headed for his pickup to run to the hardware store. “Want to come?” he asked me.

I hopped in with him. No time for makeup or perfume. Just grabbed a jacket and away we went. We talked about his work schedule, the next construction project he had planned, the shipment of supplies coming in.

At the hardware store, he showed me a new tool he’d like to buy soon. “It’d save me a lot of time but it’s expensive,” he said.

On the way home, he whipped into McDonalds. “Want an ice cream cone?” We licked ice cream and leaned over the Clorox-damp plastic table before heading home.

We counted that as a date night. My friend is married to a farmer, so she counts times when she rides the combine with him during harvest as a date night. It's hot and dirty but they're together.

Once I grumbled: how could he not find time for his family? For me?

I have a book about creative date night ideas. I wondered why he couldn’t read that, so we’d go do exciting things like fly kites together under the stars.

But when I read the one about catching frogs and having a frog-jumping contest, I decided these were not meant for real people anyway.

I decided to pitch the attitude and get to know my husband’s world. It means going to hardware stores and talking about power tools but he held my hand all the way home and shared his heart. Not a bad date night, all in all.

Pride's explosion

The snow had drifted into the valley below our farmhouse and there was a mile of whiteness on a crisp January morning when we watched the big milk tanker truck crest the next hill. The driver hesitated for a moment and we gathered at the window, wondering if he’d try to come down the road. He had to clear the valley and none of us knew how deep that snow was.

This was a big, heavy, powerful truck and soon it surged forward. Gaining speed, it aimed right for the drifts clogging the road, determinedly trusting its own speed and weight to push through. The explosion as it hit was incredible, shooting snow high in the air and completely veiling the truck.

But when the snow settled, the truck had stalled about a third of the way into the drifts, with snow pressed hard into every crevice of the body. Hours later, a huge tow truck pulled it backwards to free it and send it on a different path.

Peter stood before Jesus at the last supper with determination. “The rest may deny you but I never will.”

“Tonight, you will deny me three times,” Jesus answered.

But Peter refused to accept those words. He believed in the power of his own will and the strength of his own speed. He’d plow through what others could not.

After the explosion, when he was utterly mired in his own fear and failure, Jesus came along to pull him backwards, free him and send him on a different path.

Peter had surged forward confident of his own power and determination. But Jesus didn’t say, trust your own strength. In the end, after Peter’s utter failure, he said simply, Follow me.

Mistakes aren’t mistakes if they get you on the right road, following the right person.

Jesus answered, "If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You must follow me." John 21:22

Being like

Can you imagine it? Unburdened by time or tired feet, Jesus reigned in righteousness and glory as a plan ripened into perfection. Meanwhile, those who breathed the breath of God, formed with gentle hands and declared to be “very good,”[1] were in a cold and silent place. Desiring to be like God, they had torn the fabric of love and exposed themselves to the thorns and darkness.

Unlike those first beings, who lived in the middle of God’s abundance and fruitfulness, Jesus did not consider equality with God a thing to be grasped.[2] He left paradise to close the fabric that was really a gaping ugly wound, exposing all to the ravages of rebellion.

God, the Creator King, the Conquering Lord, the Righteous Judge, shed divinity to become one with the stricken, paying our debt and opening the path to his side. He looked down on the lowly and the poor and the captive – and became that in our place.

This day we celebrate the birth of our Savior, who chose a humble beginning to reveal a humble life. He came not to rule with glory and power. That was for later. This time, he came to be emptied, to be burdened, to act in righteousness.

We consider equality with God a goal to hunt but Jesus regarded equality with us a door to renewal. We try to heal the wound by elevating ourselves. Jesus healed the wound by humbling himself.

Today, every day, rejoice in his obedience and in his life. We are set free by his humility and grace.

By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace."

Luke 1:78-79

Painting used by permission from the Genesis Project. Thanks again, Ann!

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[1] Gen 1:31

[2] Phil 2:6

Guarding the temple

Jack’s background didn’t hinder him much anymore because he’d found God. Well, it wasn’t an awful background anyway because he’d found God as a boy and really hadn’t done much wrong before that. You know, kids will be kids.

He’d gone through the ranks at his church. He’d written a spiritual resume once, just out of curiosity. He had done nearly every job in the church and knew his spiritual gifts, because he’d done the questionnaire in Sunday school.

His witnessing plan was to let his light shine. He had no moral issues. His youthful longings were behind him now. He didn’t even speed, so that his values could witness to the state patrol as he drove by.

When the committee was formed to clarify worship rules, Jack was there. He did not want to sanctuary desecrated. The rules – er, guidelines – were printed in the bulletin so there would be no misunderstandings.

· No loud noises in the sanctuary.

· No food or drinks. (He scowled when his daughter Sarah asked whether communion counted or not.)

· No magazine reading during the sermon.

· Babies crying longer than 45 seconds needed to be taken out.

· No talking during the hymns.

· The offering must be in an envelope, to preserve privacy.

· Kids must not be in the sanctuary without an adult present.

· Adults were defined as over 21.

· Teenagers must not question their fathers on bulletin rules.

Actually, Jack didn’t put that last one in but Sarah kept pestering him about the biblical basis for his rules, er, guidelines - and he didn’t have time to look up any verses. He was busy crafting the rules – er, guidelines. Besides, he didn’t know where to look. What, Leviticus?

Jack was frustrated when attendance at church began to slide. What was with people’s priorities anyway? You have to make sacrifices. He had, after all.

Sarah had come back from a youth conference and asked him how close he felt to God. He e-mailed her his church resume to illustrate. When she asked him the last time he’d talked to an unbeliever, he sent her the bulletin rules – er, guidelines. She just didn’t get it. Neither did unbelievers, for that matter. Once they got their priorities right, they’d be in church and needed those rules – er, guidelines.

A Pharisee: devout, moral, value-centered, above and beyond the law.

John Newton said, “The closer you get to God, the harder you are on yourself and easy on other people. The farther you are from God, the easier you are on self and harder on others.”

Jesus told a parable about “some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.” (Luke 18:9)

For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.

Luke 18:14

Making a name

“Let’s make bricks,” they said to one another. That wasn’t their downfall but a window into their hearts.

These were the men of Nimrod, men who had followed his kingdom march eastward to Babylon. Nimrod was known as a mighty warrior. He built many cities and established an emperor in his day.

These men had shown the prowess of their weapons and experienced victory at every turn. It was time to settle down.

It’s an strange thing: their desire to build a tower to make a name for themselves. They had a name, given to them by God. That apparently didn’t satisfy them. They didn’t want his name or his help.

They didn’t choose stones to erect this tower. They chose building material of their own design, plans of their own purpose. Instead of the stone and mortar commonly used in their day, they selected bricks and tar. Even today we know that bricks and tar will never hold like stone and mortar.

Their odd choice revealed their intentions: this tower was not to illustrate God’s creation (by using stones) but their own. They baked the bricks; they stirred the tar. They thought this tower would illustrate their own might.

Instead, they were reduced to a confused sodden group, their weapons wilting in the mish-mash of languages. They were scattered throughout the world because they could no longer communicate.

Our hearts, like theirs, long for a name, for recognition. Do we rush to our own creation? Do we devise our own strategies? Do we bake up our own plans like these men baked bricks?

These men, unfortunately, did make a name for themselves. But we don't call them powerful and strong. We call them foolish.

That is why it was called Babel --because there the LORD confused the language of the whole world. From there the LORD scattered them over the face of the whole earth.

Gen 11:9