You Can't Change Anything From Inside the Limo

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Things change.
They do. Always. I can't do anything about that.
I don't always like it, though. Like when kids grow up and move away. Like when parents or friends or spouses die. Heck, I don't even like it when a favorite restaurant changes their menu or skirt lengths go short again.
But sometimes...sometimes I just know things HAVE to change. And, even worse, that I'm the one who's supposed to help change them.

I can't even imagine how Abraham Lincoln or Martin Luther King or Nelson Mandela felt. Yikes. They changed BIG things. My convicted changes aren't that big--not even close. But they're big to me. And, like those famous men, I have to figure out how to implement them. Whether it's school reform, or property taxes, or how my church runs their Sunday school, change sometimes calls me to work, and I am going to need a plan.

My first big experience with this came in business. I worked for a company top-heavy in wealth and privilege. The men and women who worked in our factory worked hard--really hard--and got none of the perks I saw handed out liberally to managers and executives--bonuses, both cash and non-cash. It wasn't right, I thought from my entry level office desk. If I ever got the chance to change that...well, I would.

Eventually, I got the chance.

When I got promoted to Vice President, I had big plans. I would shine a new light into the executive offices. I would make the changes I'd always seen needed making. But then, on my next business trip, the company paid for a limo to pick me up at 5AM and take me to the airport. Instead of sending it away and driving myself, I settled deep into the leather seats and napped. And a few months later, when I realized that the bonus I got that year would pay for my younger son's college education, I didn't cash the check and distribute it to those hard working men and women on the shop floor like I'd planned to do. Instead, I deposited into our savings account.

Were these things evil? Not really. But they serve to demonstrate something I learned the hard way then and in the long years that followed. Even after I'd stopped joining the excess and started fighting it, the big boys didn't care that I didn't want to play with them. It didn't matter to them at all, as long as I didn't interfere with their fun. And I didn't interfere, but not because I didn't want to. I didn't stop them from their greed because I didn't have the clout to do it. They couldn't care less what I thought or did. To them, my example was not eye opening--it was, maybe, faintly amusing. Finally, I did the only thing I could decently do. I gave up and got out.

This is what I learned: real change does not generally come from the inside.  Not unless the changer is also in charge. Kings can exert change. Sometimes very disciplined presidents and CEO's can. But not the rest of us. If we want to change something, we have to step out of it first. I saw this in business, but I also saw it in the school where I later taught and in the church we attended. There, too, we tried to enact change from the inside and found that it couldn't be done.

God knows this, too.
Example: Right after Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem to waving palm branches and cries of 'Hosanna', what did He do? He marched right over to the temple and chased out the money changers for the second time.
It is written--My house shall be called a house of prayer, but you have made it a den of thieves!--Matthew 21:13
And what happened?
The scribes and the chief priests heard it and sought out how they might destroy him.--Mark 11:18

Jesus didn't become a temple honcho first. He came in almost incognito--a young guy from a small town, but with wisdom and a mission He thoroughly understood. He could see clearly from the outside, whether from heaven or from Nazareth or from the back of a donkey, the kind of corruption so rarely visible from inside.

Obviously, I am prejudiced by my own experience. The hierarchy surrounding my own situations chewed me up and spit me out. Just like Jesus. Well, almost.

And that's my takeaway from all this. The people Christ criticized destroyed Him, or tried to. When they were finished with him, He was certainly very dead. But the same as He did, I rose up from each of my experiences remade, better than I'd begun. And amazingly, in the process, some of the things that needed changing did change. Not directly from what I did, but they did change, and some are still changing.

Just like Jesus, I left each of these situations an outcast, but not untouched, unchanged. And I learned to trust that God will use my actions in His own way. I also now know not to trust reformers with a stake in the status quo, but only those who have nothing to lose by changing it.
They have the vision. They follow the right example.

Called to Dinner with Joseph

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Fame. It's confusing no matter where it shows up. History. The evening news. Even the Bible. Everywhere we look, we keep hearing about people who did amazing things--statesmen who liberated a nation, firemen who save lives, soldiers who give their life for someone else's freedom, saints who heal the sick or were martyred for their faith, composers who wrote a symphony 500 years ago that we still love today, artists who bring visual life to the greatest events known to man.  We read about them and admire them. We want to be like them, to do something amazing. We're told constantly to aim high, that the opportunity is there and we should grab it.

But, for most people, it doesn't happen.

That's when I think of Joseph. Unsung, largely unknown Joseph. Oh, we hear his name all right, but hardly ever for anything he did himself. He had an average job in an average town. The only reason we know him at all is because he had a famous wife--Mary--and an even more famous son--Jesus. That's it. We don't even know what happened to him after the incident in the temple when Jesus was 12. He just disappeared.

And now the same thing is happening to me. I've gotten old enough now to know that I will probably never be famous. I am in the process of becoming, like Joseph, an afterthought.

Still, I have been called by God. I have. I know this because He has been gracious enough to hear my answer.

But called to what? Former Duke University professor and author Reynolds Price once said that "Few are called to anything grander than dinner." and I used to laugh at that thought. I'm not laughing anymore.

I used to look at famous people, the ones who are remembered not for sports or entertainment achievements, but things that really matter, and knew that if they could accomplish so much, so could I. But it didn't happen. I didn't end up doing anything great. I never even got my 15 minutes. What am I supposed to think about this?

I think I'm supposed to remember Joseph. I think I'm supposed to put God's teaching into perspective. I think that, when we pray "thy will be done", we need to mean it no matter what. There is no promise that our obedience will be noticed. When Christ said that:
The Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve" --Matthew 20:28
He did not say we would get any praise for our service. In fact, He warned us of exactly the opposite.
If the world hates you, remember that it hated me first...John 15:18
In other words, don't expect any recognition, at least not the pleasant kind.

Most of us will serve in anonymity, with little reward, and no one will notice.

But this is how it should be.
My first job, after all, is to love God and glorify Him, not to see myself glorified. And, if He calls me to nothing grander than dinner, well then, dinner it is.
Those He predestined, He also called and these He called, He also justifed, and those He justified, He also glorified.--Romans 8:30
Did you notice that God does all this? God does it, not history, not the world, not even the church. God. We show up, we obey, and He does all the rest. Him. Only Him.

So, what does that leave me?
To believe, to love, to follow. In the end, I have no idea what legacy I will leave, but only whether God will say:
Well done, good and faithful servant.--Matthew 25:23
Servant. And one who has done well not because everybody knows my name, but because He has written it in the palm of His hand.

Before the Tablets

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Most of us know that God gave Moses the tablets of the Ten Commandments on Mt. Sinai.
But that wasn't the only thing God did there.
In fact, it wasn't even the first thing.

Before God gave Moses the Commandments, He gave Moses something to tell the Israelites.
God told Moses to tell His people what He expected of them.
And characteristically, His instructions were short and to the point:
Now, if you obey me fully and keep my covenant, then out of all nations you will be my treasured possession.--Exodus 19:5

He told them two things:
Obey me.
Keep your promise to me.
If they did these two things, God would open up the very heavens to them. He would make them His treasured possession. He would make them His. He would make them Holy.

Sure, He gave them the Commandments, but only as exposition of what He'd already said--words that exposed His heart of love and desire for His people.
God doesn't just want us to follow a bunch of rules. 
God wants us to want Him. 
That's the importance of the Commandments.  
 The Commandments are signposts to the heart of God.
And His heart is where He wants us to remain.

God offered to the Israelites a look at His own heart.
And God's offer to the Israelites is made to us, too--through Jesus, who said,
"Come to me...."--Matthew 11:28

That is the offer at the heart of the commandments.
Come to me.
God's commandments, first etched in stone, then the same message written in Scripture and preserved for all ages, are not rules. They are His very arms opened wide in invitation.
Come to me.

Not Being Grace Kelly

Dear God, You know that I always wanted to be like Grace Kelly.
Beautiful.
Refined.
Assured.
Graceful.
But I'm not.

Instead, this is me:

No one's idea of perfect.
All dressed up, but a poor substitute for beautiful Grace.
Trying to cover up shortcomings with no luck at all.
Getting along, but excelling at nothing.
Having friends, but always trailing behind.
And smiling.
Always smiling.

What would I do without You?
You make up all my shortcomings.
You love me if I am excellent or not.
You walk beside me all my days.
You give me a reason to smile.

I love you, Lord. It doesn't matter if I don't wear a crown.
You do.

My soul does magnify the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has regarded the lowliness of His handmaiden. He, who is mighty, has magnified me and holy is His name.--Luke 1:47-49

Taking the 'Crazy' out of Busy

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I couldn't say it better than Francis de Sales:

Flies harass us more by their numbers than by their sting. Similarly, great matters disturb us less than a multitude of small affairs. Accept the duties which are entrusted to you quietly, and try to fulfill them methodically, one after another. If you attempt to do everything at once, or with confusion, you will not only burden yourself with your own exertions, and by entangling your mind, you will probably be overwhelmed and accomplish nothing.

In all your affairs, rely on God's Providence, through which alone your plans can succeed. Meanwhile, on your part, work on in quiet cooperation with God, and then rest satisfied that, if you have entrusted your work entirely to God, you will always obtain that measure of success which is best for you, whether it seems so or not in your own judgement.

...When your own work or business is not particularly engrossing, let your heart be fixed more on God than on it; and if the work be such as to require your undivided attention, then pause from time to time and look to God, even as navigators do who set their course for the harbor by looking up at the heavens rather than down at the deeps on which they sail. Doing this, you will see that God will work with you, and for you, and your work will be blessed.

What one task can you begin to intentionally share with God? Mine is dishwashing.
Thanks, Francis.

St. Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life

The Glory of the Father

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Jesus did not come to save your soul.
Just saying.

Neither your pastor nor your Sunday school teacher lied to you--they just left off something without meaning to. Something important.

Jesus came to glorify His Father by obedience.
And, in the process, He saved your soul.
...the world must learn that I love the Father and that I do exactly what my Father commanded.--John 14:31
...through the obedience of one Man the many will be made righteous.--Romans 5:19

God the Father told Jesus to die as a ransom for mankind.
But, if He had told Jesus to do something else, like just perform miracles, or to administrate another ten plagues, Jesus would have done that instead.

You and I are, friend, are not the reason for Jesus' human life.
You and I are the objects, not the subjects.
Jesus acted not for us, but for His Father's glory.

Glorify your Son, that your Son may glorify you...I have brought You glory by completing the work you gave me to do.--John 17:1,4
I will do whatever you ask for in my Name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father.--John 14:13
Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in Him.--John 13:31

Doesn't He love us?
Well, of course. He said so.
But it is a secondary love, a love that follows rather than leads, a love properly subservient to His Godhead.
It is a love for which I am so grateful, because I don't have to prove worthy of it.
I am flawed, and we both know it. But because Christ loves His Father first, His success does not depend on me, and I am free to love Him all the more.

Christ will never choose us over holiness or righteousness or the perfect glory He shares with His Father.
But He does want us to join Him there.
Arise, Shine! For your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.--Isaiah 60:1

The light is Christ, and only by Him can we understand glory.

In the Palm of Your Hand

You already have it, you know.
The world in the palm in your hand.
You have God and God has you. You are safe in His arms for all eternity. What more could you want?
Plenty, as it turns out.

There are two ways to live a Christian life:
The first is to experience salvation and live in the freedom of it.
The second is harder. It is the way of sacrifice:

 If I do not intentionally sacrifice, that is, eschew the things of this world I could otherwise enjoy without sinning, I will live a materially-based Christian life.
I will still go to heaven, and while I'm waiting, will enjoy the world, but I will miss something else.
If I intentionally sacrifice what comes naturally to my physical body, I am more likely to attain a full, spiritual relationship with my God.

Abraham had to offer God Ishmael before he was given Isaac.
I have to do the same.
If you would be my disciple, you must deny yourself...--Matthew 16:24

More is required of a disciple than of a believer, or even of a follower and, if I want to be one, I have to deny myself. Becoming a disciple requires discipline.
I cannot pray my way into this. It requires action. My action.
Jesus has already saved me. Now, He has shown me my part.

So, we have the world in the palm of our hand.
Now, it is for us to turn our hand over and dump it out.
In doing so, we are only making room for the better part.

The Fool Who Follows Him...

Take a close look. I thought this was clever at first. The Last Supper, but rather than Christ and His disciples, well-known scientists-- Galileo Galilei, Marie Curie, J. Robert Oppenheimer, Isaac Newton, Louis Pasteur, Stephen Hawking, Albert Einstein, Carl Sagan, Thomas Edison, Aristotle, Neil deGrasse Tyson, Richard Dawkins and Charles Darwin.

Harmless.  Even funny. But then I saw.

Not the heresy of it, although there is that component.  
It's the danger of it. Not because it's a joke, but because it isn't.

My former amusement dies to a choke, a strangle. I can't laugh at this because I live with it every day, as does every single smart person God made.
Suddenly, I get scared. Really scared.

This is the problem:
Smart people get used to being right.
They do. 
They get used to it because they often are, or sound like it. They know the right arguments, the pertinent facts, the scientific proofs. Most of them don't mean to lie or to deceive. Smart people are sincerely trying to help others understand. They are teachers, doctors, researchers, philosophers, scientists....and pastors. They are the best of us, aren't they? We go to them when we want to learn, want to improve, want to get well. 

But they have a problem. Us.
Because we believe smart people so completely, we have given them permission to believe themselves. 
We have given them license to ignore their own capacity for self-deception.
We ignore, and let thus let them ignore, their own humanity.

Oh sure, we all say no one is perfect, that we're all only human, and screw up, but then don't universally apply what we acknowledge to be universal frailty.
We permit some people to be more perfect than others.
We permit some people to be like God.

And that is what this picture is really about. 

Look again. 
Each of these men and women used their intelligence to figure out something important, and I am grateful for that. 
But some one of them also believed, and seemed to have convinced some of us, that their ability to figure stuff out makes them so special as to discount their own vast capacity for being wrong.
And this makes the smartest of us also the most dangerous. 
Listen to them, but don't trust them.

It is easy to deceive a really smart person when the deception involves their own perfection. 
They will believe in their own rightness almost every time.
After all, they're smart, aren't they?

The wisdom of the prudent is to give thought to their ways, but the folly of fools is deception.--Proverbs 14:8

What We Should Be

A while back, the US Army ran an ad campaign that urged potential soldiers to "Be all You Can Be."
Good advice, I thought.  And not just for soldiers, but for anyone.
But maybe I was wrong.  At least some of the time.

After all, Jesus wasn't.
Christ Jesus, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made Himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to death–even death on a cross!--Philippians 2:6-8

When He became a man, Jesus was not all He could be.
He is God.  He reached His potential when He created the world, when He defeated Satan, and will do so again when He comes back to finally reclaim this world.
As a man, Jesus was clearly underachieving.

So, in following Jesus' example, are we ever to do the same?
Maybe.
Why did Jesus do it, anyway?
...the world must learn that I love the Father and that I do exactly what my Father has commanded me.--John 14:31

And if that meant to lay aside His Godhead and become a man, so be it.
What does that look like for us?
If I love God and He wants me to teach someone how to fish rather than do the fishing myself, I must.
If I love God and He wants me to lay aside my leadership or capability in favor of a husband or an employer, I must.
If I love God and He wants me to let someone fail rather than bail them out, I must.

God gave us all gifts, but we are to exercise them only as God commands.
I not only have to consider what I can do, but must stop to think whether I should.
Perhaps the right slogan should not read "Be All You Can Be" but "Be What the God You Love Wants You to Be."

Being Beethoven

"How do I know God's will?" she asked me.
"How can I be sure I am doing what He wants me to do?"
Good question.

Anything we do, God Himself can do better, so what, after all, does God want from us?
And what does the Lord require of you?  To act justly and love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.--Micah 6:8

Yes, yes, I know that. But what to DO?
God gives us stuff to do not because He needs us to get it done for Him, but because He wants us to seek Him in it.

Seek Him first, last, and always...then do what seems right until we can't do it any more.

Don't concentrate on the result. 
As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.--Isaiah 55:9

Do what God gives us to do because He gave it.  
He manages the result.
I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow.--1Corinthians 3:61
We cultivate devotion to God.  He brings in the harvest.

Beethoven was nearly deaf when he composed his ninth symphony.  He never heard it, but he wrote it, and conducted it, with such genius and fervor that almost everyone recognizes its Ode to Joy:

God asks us, too, to play the notes even when we can't hear the music.
My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast.  I will sing and make music.  Awake, my soul.  Awake, harp and lyre.  I will awaken the dawn.--Psalm 57:71
Play on, and our love for God becomes our true song.

Fame and Holiness

What are dreams made of? Not the dreams we have while sleeping, but those we live with, the ones we hold before us while making decisions, while planning the future. Yesterday, I saw again how deeply recognition plays a part in those dreams. It's not enough to be an architect, or a musician, or teacher. Somebody needs to know our names. We desire significance.

You, however, do not agree.

As for those who seemed important, whatever they were makes no difference. God does not judge by external appearance.--Galatians 2:6

Whatever gifts You give me, You give by intention. If I have physical strength, You expect me to use it; if I have imagination, You expect me to use it; if I have intelligence, You expect me to use it, but you do it to better define my relationship to You, not my relationship to other men. Fame, position, title, caste, nobility, office all define us, but only before one another. They provide platforms of easy, thoughtless, relation based on external importance, meaningless before You.

President. General. Winner. Her majesty. Professor. Doctor. Reverend. Chief. Supervisor. First Assistant Bookkeeper. As titles measure accomplishment in obedience to your commands, they have meaning. As they become vehicles of pride or ends in themselves, titles become snares.

I am to love You first, work for You first, serve You first. My intersection with other men can never obscure my vision of You. Whatever success I attain, whatever praise or recognition, must be measured not against other men, but against what I have done in obedience to your specific command to me. I can easily succeed before men, but fail before You. This is holiness: the measure of my success in seeking You, finding You, and obeying You with joy.