Tag Archives: Christianity

What Are We Building for Heaven’s Sake?

I have no idea if what I’m about to talk about will make sense. We’ll see. My style is not to wait until the story takes shape before I begin to type. Instead, I sit down at this blank screen as soon as I know something is pushing at the edges of my brain; when a whisper becomes persistent, and then I see where it all goes. This is that. I’m in the book of Haggai. Don’t ask me why, it will only distract me.

History: Haggai speaks of the rebuilding of the temple. In 538 B.C., King Cyrus of Persia, who had defeated the Babylonians [who had conquered Jerusalem and taken the Jews captive], gave his permission for the Jews to return to Jerusalem and rebuild the temple. Roughly 50,000 of them returned and began the work. Two years later, the foundation was completed, which caused great opposition from surrounding neighbors who feared what might happen if the temple were completely rebuilt. So the work stopped. Enter the book of Haggai.

“The Lord of Armies says this: These people say: The time has not come for the house of the Lord to be rebuilt.” The word of the Lord came through the prophet Haggai: “Is it a time for you yourselves to live in your paneled houses, while this house lies in ruins?” (Haggai 1:2-4)

And this is where something is beginning to push a little harder, but I can’t grab it yet, so let’s keep going.

“You expected much, but then it amounted to little. When you brought the harvest to your house, I ruined it. Why?” This is the declaration of the Lord of Armies. “Because My house still lies in ruins, while each of you is busy with his own house.” (Haggai 1:9)

I picked at the thread, so now I have to keep pulling and see where it goes.

“So, then, you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with the saints, and members of God’s household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus Himself as the cornerstone. In Him the whole building, being put together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In Him you are also being built together for God’s dwelling in the Spirit.” (Ephesians 2:20-22 – emphasis mine)

Old Testament temple. Physical picture of a New Testament spiritual reality. Us. The Church. We are the house of God. The place of His dwelling.

“Now, the Lord of Armies says this: “Think carefully about your ways:

You have planted much but harvested little.
You eat but never have enough to be satisfied.
You drink but never have enough to be happy.
You put on clothes but never have enough to get warm.
The wage earner puts his wages into a bag with a hole in it.” (Haggai 1:5-6)

Because they neglected God’s house, while building their own.

What does that look like here, today, in our world? I don’t know, but I’m willing to throw out some what ifs on the table.

What if it looks like…

  • a greater desire to be culturally relevant than biblically sound
  • a place where pastors, teachers, and worship leaders are turned into celebrities and where “followers” usurps “following”
  • an online presence mattering more than the presence of God (subtly, of course; never admitted. Heavens no.)
  • acceptance = love, but a call for repentance is hateful
  • having the right credentials (degrees, education) is a greater qualifier than the anointing of God

But the thread doesn’t end with the corporate entity known as the Church. Because we, me, you, we’re the Church, so we have to pull that thread until we can see ourselves in the book of Haggai.

What if it looks like this in me, or in you, but probably in that other guy over there for sure…

  • a greater interest in making decisions for the church than making disciples
  • church being where we go or what we do, not who we are – more about a building than a body
  • we prefer to serve in the seen than the unseen
  • we’re more willing to be 10% of Jesus’ wallet, than to be all in as His hands and feet
  • we’d rather walk away with our offense than stay with our forgiveness and grace
  • investing in our future is more important than investing in the Church
  • Church has become optional

Do we feel like we have put so much work into our lives, but don’t really see anything for it? Are we continually dissatisfied, wishing and wanting for something more, something else, something different? Does what we have never seem to be enough?

I wonder if we have attempted to disconnect our personal lives from the Church, when in fact they are indelibly connected. Should we not be sad that we have preferred to build our own house with dead stones, than to be a living stone in building the house of God?

Even worse, are we building a church that looks nothing like the house of God?

I think I can let go of the thread now. I may need a nap, but I absolutely need some time with Jesus to let Him speak truth into me and into my life.

Thanks for hanging out with me.

Exodus 6: We Are the Messenger, Not the Message

But the Lord replied to Moses, “Now you will see what I will do to Pharaoh: because of a strong hand he will let them go, and because of a strong hand he will drive them from his land.”

God’s first words in this chapter are in response to Moses’ last words in the previous chapter – “…why have You brought trouble upon this people… You have not rescued Your people at all.”

God sent Moses to Pharaoh with a message, and the message didn’t work. In fact, it made things worse. At least that’s what it looked like from Moses’ vantage point, and it caused him to despair. Moses didn’t know that his assignment was never intended to be the solution, it was only meant to prepare the way. Moses was not the message. In other words, it was never going to be Moses who changed the heart of the king and freed God’s people.

I wonder if someone needed to hear that today. What you perceive as failure on your part, may simply be a misunderstanding of the mission.

Moses brought the message of God to Pharoah, but what was going to move the ruler was the power of God. And yet… I still don’t think that’s the full perspective of this chapter, and here’s why. God could have simply brought a deadly plague on every Egyptian, leaving the Israelites free to walk away from their bondage. He could have, with a thought, wiped out their oppressors, if their freedom was the primary goal. But it wasn’t, and we know that because of the next message God gave Moses to take, not to Pharaoh, but to the Hebrew slaves.

Therefore tell the Israelites: I am the Lord, and I will bring you out from the forced labor of the Egyptians and rescue you from slavery to them. I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and great acts of judgment. I will take you as My people, and I will be your God. You will know that I am the Lord your God, who brought you out from the forced labor of the Egyptians.” 

You will know that I am the Lord your God.

I will dare to say that Moses being sent to Pharoah wasn’t about Moses, or even about the oppressed or the oppressor. It was about God being known.

There would be no misunderstanding as to how the Hebrews were rescued from their slavery. No way to chalk it up to good fortune or coincidence, and certainly no way they could ever think that they freed themselves. Everyone involved in this story would know one indisputable fact – God had done this. Not a god, but the God.

You and I, as Christ followers, are in the service of our God, but let us never mistake our assignment to be the solution. Sometimes we will deliver the message, maybe even raise our staff over the water, but it will always be the power of God that parts the sea, turns a heart, heals a disease, or sets someone free – so that they will know that He is the Lord. May we never allow our limited perspective to make any of this about us.

May we (the Church) stop endeavoring to be known. Stop making it about our great preaching, great worship, and great ministries. The number of seats filled and the number of people following us is meaningless as long as it remains about us.

I pray the Church shifts her gaze, and the quest of her heart becomes to simply make Him known.

Because we are the messenger, not the message.

I pray that my gaze shifts off of me – my failures and successes, my not enough or too much, my abilities or inabilities, my have or have not, my following or the lack thereof.

I pray that the quest of my heart becomes to make Him known, even if (when) it means that I am unknown.

Because I am the messenger, not the message.

The Narrowing

It was subtle, so I didn’t notice it at first. And then one day I looked around and realized that most of the things I wanted when I was much younger, I no longer want. But it goes deeper than that.

I was having breakfast with a friend recently and she asked me what I’m looking for in community. I told her that I had come to a place of wanting to be around people who just want to talk about Jesus, that not much else interests me, and I wasn’t sure why. She nodded in understanding and dubbed it “a narrowing” and that term just felt so perfect. A narrowing.

When I was in my young decades – 20’s, 30’s and 40’s, the space of my life was filled with oh so many things. Family and work. Fears and pain and wants and dreams, and a past I was trying to outrun. At the far end of my 20’s, Jesus moved into that tattered, crowded space, and I had no idea of the narrowing that had begun and now, three and half decades later, I see it, and it is a joy to behold.

My narrowing is still in motion, and it’s painful at times, but man do I find it to be beautiful. I wish for a narrowing for us all. Instead of the wideness of everything this life has to offer, I want us to find life in the narrow space of the one thing, and to feel utterly satisfied in that space.

“One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek Him in His temple.” Psalm 27:4

It is the space of His presence, where the need for company narrows to just the One, and the desire to be with Him eclipses every other desire.

Jesus looked at him and loved him. “One thing you lack,” He said. “Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow Me.” Mark 10:21

It is the culling of our idols. Letting go of the one thing most of us lack—the giving of it all, especially that which is most dear. The ability to lay down what we have held so close. Everything that gives us our sense of security, or allows us to feel in control. What provides our comfort and gives us value. It is a painfully necessary narrowing, this one.

“The Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has made the right choice, and it will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:41-42

When the many things get crowded out by the one thing. In this narrow space, we find the value of being, over doing and we finally understand that doing must flow from being, or it will wear us out.

 He answered, “Whether or not he’s a sinner, I don’t know. One thing I do know: I was blind, and now I can see!” John 9:25

My thirst to know the ins and the outs and the greek and the hebrew and the what the when and the where has been narrowed to one thing. I was blind and now I see and I want to know the God who did that. This has been the continual, sweetest, narrowing for me – the pursuit of the heart of my Father, who pursued my heart first.

Sometimes I still strain to make space for other things, only to find that those things do nothing to satisfy the true longing in my soul. So I pray for the narrowing to continue in me. And I pray it for you.

May you find that God has been narrowing your life in all the best, even painful, but beautiful ways.

The Weight of a Life That’s Not Mine

Life gets heavy when it becomes about you.

It was a Holy Spirit whisper that won’t go away, so I know I need to talk about it, because I think there’s a lot of heaviness going on.

I remember how life felt so many years ago. Like I was perpetually bent over from the weight of what I carried, and what I carried was my imploding life with a marriage that was in pieces, and chidren that were hurting. What it was and what it wasn’t. What I wanted, felt I needed, thought I should have, deserved. Why was I here, was I good enough, was I doing it right, did I ruin everything.

I was strong, but not that strong, and eventually I ran out of stubborn. So I quit. Threw in a towel and said no more. I fell under the weight of a life that was mostly about me, and God caught me in a fire that my flesh sorely needed.

I came out of that fire knowing one thing more than anything else: Every inch of my life is from Him, to Him, and for Him. Everything is about Him.

It’s hard though. Seeing everything through a lens that isn’t focused on us takes getting used to, but it is the road to freedom. When our lives are our own, with that comes the stress of doing it right. Comparison. Being enough. The fear of failing. The pressure of succeeding and of living a life of purpose and leaving our mark and pretty quickly we are bent over with the weight of a life that isn’t even ours.

I’ll (maybe) end with this question: Is it possible that at least some of the high levels of anxiety and depression that we are experiencing might be caused by the weight of lives that are mostly about us?

Oddly enough, there is great freedom and healing in the untangling of ourselves from our lives, averting our eyes from the mirror, and letting Him be the main character in our story.

Questions to start asking:

God, what do You want? What will bring You glory? What are You doing in this place, at this time, and how can I obey You here? How can I cooperate with what You want to do in me, with me, and through me in this season?

Where has my life become my own and how do lay it down again?

When It Was New

Those early days of walking with Jesus. Where have thirty-five years gone? Sometimes, it felt so hard to keep following, but that’s because trust was so hard for me then.

Following gets a whole lot easier when you trust the one you’re following.

He laid a track record for my untrusting heart so that I could find my way to His faithfulness. Comfort in the hard places, answers to prayers I said in desperation, little by little shifts of my heart toward Him. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to follow Him, or didn’t want to give Him my whole heart and my whole life – I just didn’t know how and I didn’t know what He would do with what I was giving.

Thirty-five years of learning to trust Him more than I trust anything else in this world. Discovering that He is more than I ever could have imagined He would be – more loving, more kind, more merciful, more trustworthy. Once I discovered the goodness of God, I mean really tasted it, it was game over for anything else that would fight for my affections.

God has no worthy opponent for my heart.

I remember the newness of discovering His voice. That God would speak and I could hear Him in my heart, well, that never gets old, I’ll tell ya that. Today, He is still speaking. Through His Word, but also through a still small voice in my heart, and often through pictures. From time to time, He has grown quiet, but never silent.

My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.

John 10:27

I remember the hunger of when it was new. The insatiable desire for more of Him. To just sit with His people in prayer and worship for hours sometimes. I only wanted to talk about Him, nothing else. Every other topic of conversation became frivolous. I had a death grip on the hem of His robe in those days, wanting to just attach myself to Him and never let go. Some people, mostly family, just didn’t get it and thought I was off the deep end, but you know what? God planted me in a church full of people who got it. People who were hungry with me, and when you have people around you who share your hunger for Jesus, man, nothing can touch that. But I have also experienced the opposite, and it’s heartbreaking. Being part of a community of people who are content to stay where they are, not really interested in knowing Him more, in changing, or in walking out what the scriptures describe as the life of a follower of Christ. They like the company of fellow Christians, but they aren’t hungry for anything more than what they have. That’s a hard place to be for anyone who hungers for God.

Find hungry people and be with them. There’s nothing else like it.

When it was new, I wept over His Word, wept in worship, wept in prayer. It wasn’t the whipping up of emotions, it was a born again spirit responding to a realm I had never experienced. People get so scared of being emotional in church, but when you come to the realization that God is near, that His Spirit is living on the inside of you, that Jesus is real and His love is real and His goodness is real… I mean, how can you have all of that swirling around you and remain stoic? Unmoved?

Thirty-five years have changed a lot of things about my life. But I think what prompted this post is realizing that today, I’m as hungry as I ever was. I still want to be with Him every minute of every day. I still long for hours of conversation about Him, and prayer with His people. I still long for Him to change me, teach me, and lead me into the things and places that I have yet to go. And I still weep over Him, and I never want that to stop. Walking with Jesus has never felt old. Not once.

There is no other love that is worthy of being our first love, and first love never grows old.

And I want that for you, whoever you are. I want you to be crazy about Jesus no matter how long you’ve walked with Him. He is so worthy of a hunger that won’t quit, a desire for His nearness, and emotions that run free in His presence.

I pray that for you, and for us all, walking with Jesus will always feel like when it was new.

Follow Jesus: Covered in dust

“After coming down with them, He stood on a level place with a large crowd of His disciples and a great number of people from all Judea and Jerusalem and from the seacoast of Tyre and Sidon. They came to hear Him and to be healed of their diseases; and those tormented by unclean spirits were made well. The whole crowd was trying to touch Him, because power was coming out from Him and healing them all.”

Luke 6:17-19

There is a distinction made in this set of verses that we might easily miss.

A large crowd of His disciples.

A great number of people.

Jesus was a rabbi (teacher / master). A rabbi’s talmidim (disciples) followed him everywhere, learning everything they could from him, and serving him. They hung on his every word, and it is said that they followed so closely, they would become covered in the dust of their rabbi’s feet. They imitated him in everything, and then, when ready, they became a rabbi and had their own disciples. Jesus had a large crowd of disciples – some who would walk away when He said hard things. Those who remained were scattered at His crucifixion, and were perhaps all present in the upper room at Pentecost. But I wonder if only twelve of them had His dust on them.

And then, there was the great number of people who came to hear Him speak, and receive healing and deliverance from Him. They came to get something they desperately needed, from a man who had power coming out of Him, and who can blame them? But the same crowds who gathered to get what He had to give, are the same one who later called for His crucifixion.

A great number of people will walk away from Jesus when they realize He doesn’t just give them something they were looking for, but He requires something of them.

You may think the question all of this poses is, which are you – are you in the large crowd of His disciples, or the great number of people? That is not my question, but you are free to search your heart for an answer anyway.

The real question that this creates for me is this: Am I still learning from Jesus? Is He still the one teaching me to walk in His ways, to trust Him above all others, including myself, to believe for things others have stopped believing for? Do I follow Him, or do I follow the crowd who follows Him?

I believe that many, if not most, of those in the large crowd of disciples were saved. I also believe its possible that many who were in the great number of people were also saved. I think some people follow from a distance, and some follow closer.

I just want to be covered in His dust, day in and day out.

Genesis 44—What Has Given Way?

It had been roughly 20 years since Joseph’s brothers had thrown him into a pit, sold him into slavery, and then led their father to believe he was dead. They knew Joseph was the favored son and they knew the grief it would bring to Jacob. But young hearts that are filled with jealousy and rivalry are impetuous, and unable – or unwilling – to consider the fallout that is sure to come from their self-centered actions. Twenty years before this testing moment in chapter 44, these brothers did not care enough for their own father to spare him from what they knew would break his heart. They threw their brother into a pit and then sat down to eat lunch, no doubt in earshot of his fear. And then they went home, hurt their father with the news, and offered him comfort from the blow of grief they themselves had caused. {Genesis 3}

But time passed. Youth and rivalry gave way to famine, and now things matter differently.

“So now, if the boy is not with us when I go back to your servant my father, and if my father, whose life is closely bound up with the boy’s life, sees that the boy isn’t there, he will die. Your servants will bring the gray head of our father down to the grave in sorrow.” Genesis 44:30-31

There is a giving way that accompanies the passing of our years. I’ve seen it. Felt it. You have too. We all have. Seasons of famine as God patiently waits for things to matter differently. For our selfishness to give way to compassion, and pride to give way to humility.

For Joseph’s brothers, this giving way of their jealousy and selfishness came with regret and fear. I’ve felt that kind of giving way as well, the kind that makes you wish for a do-over in the worst way.

And maybe that’s the topic today. I never really know until we’re knee deep in and suddenly, it shows itself in the way a father’s heart mattered differently to once selfish sons, as the years wash away petty pride, leaving behind the regret and fear that sometimes only a famine can bring.

What has given way in you, I wonder?

Have the years taken one thing and left another in its place? Something to ponder. But there is a better giving way that is far more worthy of our thoughts.

Has anxiety given way to peace? Fear to courage? Pride to humility? Self-reliance to trust in God? What is it, Beloved, in you that has given way to Jesus? Little by little, a moving back to make room, conceding the right to occupy. It is good sometimes, I think, to remember and give thanks for how much darkness has given way to Light.

For those of us who are in Christ, we can say this much for sure – death has given way to life.

May everything else that is in us give way to everything in Him.