Another Blood

The Bible tells us that King David of Israel had a heart for God.  And he did. But he was not weak, nor was he sweet, nor meek.  King David was made and commissioned by God for war.  And he was good at it.

He began his career by killing the giant Goliath and while he reigned, Israel fought enemies on all sides.  King David knew the color of blood, and the smell of it, and the taste of it.  And when he grew old, he tired of it.

By the end of his life, David wanted not to destroy any longer, but to build.  First, though, he decided to assess his kingdom.  He desired to see the scope of what he had done so far.  He had fought so many years; he wanted to find out what he had accomplished, so he commissioned a census.  And he counted his people.

He had built an empire, a far reaching one of more than a million and a half fighting men. 
But God was not pleased with David.

During his life, David had conquered many lands and killed many men at God's command.  And God blessed him for his obedience.  But this counting God neither commanded nor sanctioned.  
Of all the things David had done, this peaceful, seemingly innocuous action angered God.
And David would spill another kind of blood.

Men would die this time, not because David was obedient, but because he had sinned.
So the Lord sent a pestilence in Israel, and seventy thousand men of Israel fell.--1Chronicles 21:14

This new blood left a mark all the other had not.  And David would pay for his disobedience.
Then, only then, after all the love and reverence, after all the songs, after all the years of drawing his sword in God's name, only then did God tell David he had done wrong.
You had shed much blood and have made great wars; you shall not build a Temple in my name for you have shed much blood on the ground before me.--1Chronicles 22:8

This last disobedience, not the years of faithful, if bloody, following, disqualified David from building the Lord's temple.
And so it still does.
The blood of disobedience, of pride, of lust, can never honor God.
But there is a blood of another kind, blood shed by specifically commissioned men according to God's intentional command. That blood leaves another stain, the stain of holy obedience, the stain of sacrifice, the same stain that gathered at the foot of the cross on Calvary.

Now Where Was I?

My husband does not want me to use herbicides.
But I want a perfect, weedless garden.
For 30 years, we have wrangled about this.
It needs to stop.

But how?  Nobody wants to give in.  We both think we are right and, from our own perspectives, we are.  After all, no biblical principle hinges on whether I spray Roundup on the creeping charlie.
Or does it?

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.--Matthew 5:3,5
A man's pride brings him low, but a man of lowly spirit gains honor.--Proverbs 29:23
I live in a high and holy place, but also with him who is contrite and lowly in spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly and revive the heart of the contrite.--Isaiah 57:15

Think about it.
What makes us really humble?
Is it bowing and shuffling when someone tells me that I have done something well?  No.  That makes me secretly proud.
Am I humbled when I experience defeat after striving to do or learn something?  No.  As often as not, that simply spurs me on to try harder next time.

But obedience, now that breeds humility.
Doing what someone else wants, not what I want, when I know my idea or plan is just as valid as theirs.  Setting aside my own will in situations where all I sacrifice is me.
That's humility.

Of course, I should never set aside my holiness, my love and devotion to God, but all else can be well lost.

And it feels nasty.
Is not my opinion or desire of value?
Of course it is.  That's why setting it aside takes so much effort.
I am humbled by giving up my will not because it has no validity, but because it does.

Some positions are not important enough to fight over.
But they make great tools by which to learn holiness.

Obedience in these issues is how I push aside the extraneous parts of me, how I enter into the holy of holies, where my humanity takes a back seat to God's supremacy.

Humility was never about my position before other men.  
It was always about my position before God.
And, as it turns out, pulling weeds.
I am always with you.  You hold me by my right hand.--Psalms 73:23

God's Hand--Why Murder is a Sin

I don't easily obey authority.
Admit it.  Neither do you.

I have trouble with people, who I know are just as broken and sinful as I am, telling me what to do. But God says that, if they are in a position of authority over me, I am to do what I am told as long as it does not contradict His Word.  And I don't like it.

I once saw a visual of this that actually helped a lot, however.  It was lineup of sorts:  I face my authority, but Christ stands behind him, quietly, firmly, with unwavering sinlessness.  I might not want to obey the person, but no matter what, I can obey my God. I may see a flesh and blood person, but God stands behind him bearing authority I cannot, do not even want, to debate. 

Now I correctly understand authority.   It resides, all of it, not with a man or woman, but with God.  I obey not because people are right or just, but because God is.

The same logic, God says, applies to how I deal with my enemies, and this is why:
Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.--Ephesians 6:12

Just as I look at my authorities and obey because I see God working through them, I, in the same way, look at my enemies and see not my battle with them, but God's battle with evil. I have to remember that the battle is not mine, but God's. 

Men themselves are not evil.  God made them, every one of them.  They are, however, twisted and used by evil.  Through it all, God is fighting the battle to win them back right in front of our eyes.  

I am to engage in that battle, but not against their flesh. I am to battle the evil that controls their flesh.  Murder only kills the flesh.  It does not defeat the enemy.

Why the Apple was Delicious

Eve picked the apple because it was beautiful and juicy.  I suspect it tasted sweet and made a satisfying crunch when she bit into it.  God could have made it ugly or poisonous, but He didn't.

When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good and pleasing to the eye and desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some, and ate it.--Genesis 3:6

It made sense to her.  The tree, after all, held the knowledge of good and evil.  Knowledge is good, right?  The fruit was supposed to bring wisdom.  God wants us to be wise, doesn't He?

It made sense.  Simple, common sense.  So what was the problem?

The problem wasn't with the apple.  The apple itself was fine, exactly what it was made to be.  The problem was Eve.  And what she thought of God.

Eve thought of the apple first, not God.  According to Eve's reasoning and common sense, the apple should have brought wisdom, but it brought death for only one reason: God said it would.  

God's command supersedes appearances and simple deduction and common sense. If common sense ruled, knowledge of good and evil would have brought Eve the advantages of wisdom and we would all have profited by it.  But it didn't because God knew that, in the end, it would destroy us, and it did.

It is not the worth of a thing itself that matters most.  It is whether God, in His infinite wisdom, affirms or denies our access to it. Temptation ties itself not to the thing, but to our willingness to trust and obey. 

Jesus saw this immediately when Satan came to visit Him:
Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.--Matthew 4:4

Plain obedience satisfied Christ.  Should it not satisfy us as well?

Am I Not Sending You?

I always felt kind of sorry for Gideon.  Bible stories tell us that he was a mighty man of valor, but they sure seem to exaggerate.  Gideon cried, and cringed, and complained.  He questioned his mission at every step. He performed every act of 'bravery' sneaking around at night.  And I don't blame him. 


God gave Gideon an nasty job, then took away every tool he needed to perform it.

God found Gideon sneaking around threshing wheat in his father's winepress so the Midianites wouldn't find him.  Then, when God told him to cut down his father's pagan worship sites, he did it at night so no one would blame him for it.  When God told him to defeat the Midianites, he said, "Who, me?" and whipped out a fleece to see whether he could get out of it....twice.  When the day finally came to do the deed, and he snuck up (again) on the Midianite camp with his pitiful 300 soldiers, they wielded flares and trumpets rather deadly weapons.

God  heard Gideon's weak whining, but ignored it.  Frankly, I'm surprised that Gideon didn't give it all up as a bad job.

Gideon had to take his piddly army into a sad kind of battle saying only, "God told me."  He must have looked like an idiot.  What if he was wrong?

God, of course, had something clear and plain to say to that:

The Lord turned to him and said, "Go in the strength you have and save Israel out of Midian's hand.  Am I not sending you?"--Judges 6:14

Visual:  [Slap upside the head]

"Am I not sending you?  Am I not the God of the universe?  Did I make a mistake?"

Of course not.  God says 'Defeat the Midianites' or 'Build the temple' or 'Kill the giant,' then proceeds to tell us that we don't need anything but what little strength we have and Him.  It's about Him.  It's always about Him.


Gideon didn't need any equipment greater than his faith.

Fortunately, he did have that.

God has given us a job, too.  He is sending us somewhere without equipment or soldiers or bravery.  Is our faith strong enough?

Get Over It--From Faith to Forgiveness

I've heard it said that we live in an age of the perpetually offended. There's some truth in that, I guess. It certainly seems like we do a great deal of tiptoeing around, working too hard to avoid the unpleasantness of strong opinion or the disagreement of firm belief. Sometimes, I just want to scream, "Get over It!"

Unless, of course, I'm the one needing to do the getting over.

I do not like being hurt, ignored, or betrayed any more than anyone else, but it happens, and God has clear instructions for me when it does:

If your brother sins, rebuke him and, if he repents, forgive him. If he sins against you seven times in a day and seven times comes back to you and says, "I repent," forgive him.--Luke 17:3-4

God says forgive. He uses small words and short sentences, but the task is not easy. After Jesus explained the need to forgive to the apostles in the above passage, they, during one of their rare moments of clarity, knew exactly what they needed to do it.

The apostles said to the Lord, "Increase our faith!"--Luke 17:5

It takes extra faith to forgive. While unforgiveness has its roots in self-interest and earth-bound understanding, forgiveness steps out of these and casts all of our lot into God's lap. That's why we need faith.

Unforgiveness keeps the focus on us. Forgiveness keeps our focus on God.

Forgiveness operates by the same spiritual mechanisms as obedience. I can neither obey nor forgive if I make earthly justice and my own way the goal. Obedience and forgiveness only happen when I see God rather than myself. I must forgive and obey not because I think I can, but because God tells me to.

Forgiveness and obedience may outwardly change nothing. They right no wrongs, ease no hurts. They do, however, draw me directly to the side of Christ and from there, all things are possible.

The Real Will Power

Our bodies house tremendous power. Our hearts beat relentlessly, pushing blood through miles of vessels. Muscles move on command and electrical impulses carry communication from our brains to extremities in an instant. It's possible to chart how these systems work, but not all of what makes up a human being responds to a doctor's measurement. Medicine can prod a brain, but not a mind. A textbook can illustrate a muscle, but not the will.

Something incorporeal drives our physical systems, something not made from cells. Thought and desire do this, and we call them our will.

The will has power, too. Anyone who has seen the movie "Green Lantern" will recognize this--the hero has a ring that projects his thoughts, his will, on anything at which he points it. This ring, the one that harnesses his will, gives him power over everything around him, and he likes that power.

Who doesn't? When I make something happen, I feel good, too. The movie misses something important, though. I can will something destructive as easily as I can will help or rescue, and my limited vision doesn't always know the difference. Jesus knew this too, and offered a simple solution:

I seek not to please myself, but Him who sent me.--John 5:30

I don't have a ring bringing intergalactic power, but I do have a strong will, one that can indeed change the world around me. I can use it for good, like the Green Lantern, but only if I subject it to another will upon which I can completely rely.

May Your will be done--Matthew 26:42

My will is easy to spot. It starts with the thought, "I want...." This is the place where I have to catch myself and redirect my view beyond me to You.

Drawing up the Nectar

Even now, when autumn has taken firm hold, butterflies frequent my backyard garden. They float delicately on the last of the season's warm breezes, flapping a little, but mostly gliding from one flower to the next, sipping on each one. They don't live long, but look beautiful for a while, lay eggs, then die.

I know people like them. They are beautiful and smile a lot. They move easy, and shift readily to find places where a benevolent sun shines. They wave lightly and settle in for as long as it lasts, until a challenging puff of wind unseats them and they look for another tranquil spot. Their fragile wings do not bear mistreatment.

A bee's lot is different. He is sturdy because he has work to do. He buzzes a warning, but stings interruption. An ungainly lump, he flies with purpose and stays at a flower only long enough to gather what he must transfer elsewhere. He builds for other purposes than his own.

It's a matter of motive, I think. Each creature, butterfly and bee, become what they must for their specific purpose. As in uninvolved onlooker, I prefer the beauty of the butterflies, but farmers don't agree. For farmers, bees pollinate crops and bring fruit forth from flowers. Butterflies produce nothing but more butterflies.

Of course, neither insect chooses their what purpose to serve, but we do. For men as for insects, actions follow purpose. What we do is a consequence of what we most value, what we build a result of what we believe.

Don't you know that when your offer yourselves to someone to obey him as slaves, you are slaves to the one you obey--whether you are slaves to sin, which leads to death, or to obedience, which leads to righteousness?--Romans 6:16

I am going to follow something, to obey someone's call, and my actions will fall in line with that call. I will live, I will drink from the flower, and I can do it as a butterfly, that is to nourish only myself, or as bee, to build up for something more, for an almighty motive. In either case, I give my life, become a slave, to what I live for.

Thought for today: Whose purpose drives your actions?