Coin of the Realm

In the United States, our coins say "In God we Trust."  Kind of an odd place for a God-message, isn't it?  After all, the things of heaven have nothing to do with exchange and commerce, right?  Well, actually, they do.

After a long time, the master returned and settled accounts.  The man who received five talents brought the other five.  "Master," he said, "you entrusted me with five talents.  See, I have earned five more."  The master replied, "Well done, good and faithful servant!  You have been faithful with a few things.  I will put you in charge of many things.  Come and share your master's happiness."--Matthew 25:19-21

God Himself, as in the parable, initiates a system of earned rewards and He does it with a presentation, a deposit.   The master gave his servant five talents, something too precious for the servant to have gotten for himself.  In our case, God begins the transaction with life and salvation, gifts way beyond our ability to gain, and He gives them freely. 

Once we receive these, however, things change.

Once we walk into God's open arms of redemption, the business of our life in Him begins.  This is when we become eligible for earned rewards, an increasing share in His kingdom and His goodness.  

We purchase these not with gold or silver or coins saying "In God We Trust", but by actually trusting Him.  We purchase our reward with the coin of God's realm--steadfast faith, righteousness, and the making of disciples.  By these we earn our crown in heaven, a crown based not on God's incomparable gift to us, but by what we have given back to Him.

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.  Now there is in store for me a crown of righteousness which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award me on that day, and not only to me, but to all who have longed for His appearing.-2Timothy 4:7-8

How Good People Lie

The Bible says that Abraham was righteous, but describes how he lied about his wife.  It says Moses was righteous, too, then relates that he killed a man and ran away.  Then it says that the Pharisees, who revered and followed God's law to the letter, were not righteous, but vile, stinking, empty tombs.  What?

No one will be declared righteous in His sight by observing the law--rather through the law we become conscious of sin...Righteousness from God comes through faith...--Romans 3:20-22

Over and over, God's Word tells us that only faith justifies, only faith saves.  But that is not enough for us.  We want to DO something.  And doing good is healthy and pleasing to God...until the doing takes on more importance than the believing. 

The tipping point comes when we equate doing good with being good, when we believe that our ability to follow the rules makes us right in God's eyes.  This is where the Pharisees went wrong, and so do we.

The Jews had their law, but we have ours, too.  Every time we say or hear "But he's a good person!" to justify salvation, we witness a lie.  No one who tries to follow good behavior into God's lap of forgiveness will reach his goal.  Neither Pharisaical law nor a pretty, shined up life lead to heaven.

God does not change.  He does not flinch.  He saved by faith then, and saves by faith now.  Moses and Abraham believed, and were made righteous.  We believe, and He does the same for us.

And because believing includes recognizing God's supremacy and perfection, faith leads to repentance, and all the pieces come together.  The very last--the last--is the doing. 

We can't change a faithless, but proper, life into a saved one any more than a broken vase can be made into a perfectly new one.  We can only present our broken pieces to the Lord of all by faith, and let Him do what we cannot.

Getting Satisfaction

Sooner or later, everything turns into a God-problem.  My most recent self-examination arose from dissatisfaction with a car repair.  A car repair.  Normally, cars and theology do not immediately connect, but this time, the situation made me wonder.

It was clear that the repair shop serviced us poorly.  I was not a satisfied customer.  How, then, should I reply?  Should I complain?  Should I explain in detail?  Should I never go back?  Should I ignore it and smile?  None of these easy answers seemed adequate, and then I knew why.


In deciding what to do about the car, I didn't think about God. 

"What would Jesus do?" would not suffice this time.  Jesus, after all, is not an ancient, distant onlooker.  He stands beside me every moment, witnessing every act, hearing every thought.

Eventually, I got it.
The repair should not rise as my first concern.  I must act first in satisfying Jesus, my witness, my silent partner.

God's wrath comes on those who are disobedient, so do not be partners with them, for you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.  Live as children of the light.  Find out what pleases the Lord.--Ephesians 5:6-8, 10

I do not respond to the repairman so much as to my Lord.  Frankly, the repairman doesn't care all that much.  But God cares very much.

I not only live with sinners; I am one.  And because we sinners constantly rub up against one another, we have problems.  My job is not to try to make the problems go away or even to always try to solve them.  My job is, however, to always respond to them within the context of godliness.

My car may eventually be made right.  Or it may not.  But if I respond correctly to God, I have pleased my Lord, and that, in the end, satisfies me.

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?

Walking up the Hill

I can't help it.  I want health, and love, and good fortune.  Whenever life alternatives present themselves, I prefer one outcome over another--the easier, pleasanter one.

God already knows what I want, of course, but I tell Him anyway.  When life gets tough, I pray...
"Please, God, let my son grow into a man, a man after your own heart."
"Please, God, let my husband not have cancer."
"Please.  Please."

And God can say "No."
He can say, "I will do with your son as I see fit." or "It's time for your husband to come home to me."
"No, please....No, God."

That's when the problem expands from the situation itself to the condition of my own heart. Is this my crisis of faith?  Am I lukewarm because I want one alternative over the other?

Then I remember Jesus:
My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me.--Matthew 26:39

Jesus had a preference for outcome, too. His body did not want to suffer either, and we share the same kind of bloody, heartbeating flesh.  My humanity, like His, longs for ease and communion.

Wanting these is not the crisis of faith. The crisis comes not in the wanting, but in the response--the ability to say, like Jesus did,
Yet not as I will, but as You will.--Matthew 26:39

Ease and good fortune have their eyes focused on earth.  My sweet God wants me to look higher and when I do, I find, like Him, the joy set before me. Then, with Christ beside and my eyes fixed resolutely on my own Calvary, I can walk up the hill.

Reaching In

God's most frequent admonition for us is to believe.  "Come to me," He says.  "Know me."  "Trust me."  And we do for a little while, but then the days come when we do not.  Heavy, dark days.  Lonely days.  Days when we know He has died and been buried and we don't know what to do next.  We heard that He had risen from the grave, but we haven't seen Him.

He has instructions for these times:
Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.--John 14:27
Do not worry about your life--Matthew 6:25
Cast your cares on the Lord.--Psalm 55:22

We try, but the sadness persists.

That is when our sweet Lord offers us His side.
Put your finger here.  Reach out your hand and put it into my side.  Stop doubting and believe.--John 20:27

He is real.  He had died and risen.  He has rescued us from death.  No matter how we feel, we must know that His wound  has bled real blood so that we can know peace, so that we can be free.  And when, on some days, the knowledge of these is not enough, we can reach our hand into His side, feel His pulse, and know, really know.

 He does not shrink back from our touch.  We cannot shrink from His.
I am with you always, to the very end of the age.--Matthew 28:20

Feeling My Way

Some days, I know that God is near.  And some days, I reach out for Him and can't grab on.  I feel nothing, encounter no reassuring presence, no supporting pressure from the everlasting arms.  These are the times, the times when senses fail, that I must remember.

It was not their sword that won the land, nor did their arm bring them victory; it was Your right hand, Your face, for You loved them.--Psalm 44:3

God is there when I do not see His face.  He is there when I cannot sense Him near.  Just like trying to maneuver around familiar surroundings in the dark--I put one foot in front of the other in the direction He last showed me, confident that He has not changed.  I know where I last saw his footprints, last beheld His face.  That is where He still waits for me.  

Many are asking, who can show us any good?  Let the light of Your face shine on us, O Lord.--Psalm 4:6

You shine on us when we cannot see.  You love us when we cannot feel.  You guide us when we cannot acknowledge Your nudge.  

If those who believe but do not see are blessed, equally blessed must be those who know but cannot feel and whose steps remain resolute in darkness, sadness, loneliness, pain, and doubt. His right hand still holds us.  His face still shines on us, for He loves us.