Not Giving Up for Lent

 

pic: kingdomvoicesmag.com

The temple in Jerusalem.
Have you ever imagined it?
The gold, the tapestries and furs. Candlelight diffused into partial darkness, a table spread every day with new bread, and all the time the haunting knowledge that, just in the next room, GOD IS.

God.
Right there.
The Presence between the cherubim.

Now, switch gears for a minute and think of yourself.
Your very own body.
God's new temple.

Now, stop it.
Stop shuffling and bowing your head and saying, "Aw, shucks. I'm not so much..."
You are. God said so.

On that day, you will realize that I am in my Father and you are in Me and I am in you.--John 14:20
Those who obey His commands live in Him and He in them.--1John 3:24

 You are the new temple. Me, too.
As beautiful as the old one--silver, gold, and fine linen.

But the old temple didn't last. Enemies of God destroyed it.
Defiled, the sanctuary stripped, the precious metals stolen, the decorations destroyed.
Well, destruction comes to our temple, too. It, too, is stripped and desecrated.
And we all know what does it. We all know what causes our own ruin.
We do. Me. Us. Our sin. Mine and yours.
When we sin, our temple looks just as miserable as the Hebrews'.
And today, on Ash Wednesday, I remind myself that I am dust as a result.
Dust. Just like the destroyed temple.

But the Jewish temple didn't stay that way and I don't have to, either.
In 167 BC, Judas Maccabeus amassed an army determined to take back the temple and, after seven years of battle, they did it.
But, here's the point:  He didn't do it by giving anything up or sitting idly by, waiting for the Lord to do something.
He took back his temple by fighting for it.
He didn't only deny himself stuff or fast for it or just pray for it. He picked up his sword and fought for what belonged to both God and His people.

That is what Lent is for.
Lent is our time to take back our temple.
And just giving up stuff will not help. Denying myself Oreos or NCIS will not do it unless it was cookies or television that defiled me in the first place. Eating fish will not help unless prime rib was the agent of sin. We will have to fight for the restoration of our temple, just like the Maccabees did. We will have to use offensive weapons, not defensive ones.
We have to use Lent to kick out the invaders in our own bodies that have caused us to sin.

Let us restore the decayed state of our people and let us fight for our people and the sanctuary.--1Maccabees 3:43

Lent is when we retake our own sanctuary and restore it to its Owner.
Lent is when we restore ourselves for God.

God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.--Colossians 1:27

Obedience Training? Really?

photo: www.dog-obedience-training-review.com

Did you ever try to train a dog to walk properly?
It takes work.
And a strong leash.
But a loving owner has to do it, as unpleasant as it can sometimes be.
The dog will pull and drag and jump and try to run away, even though he likes going out and being with you. He's so excited. He has tons to do and a very definite agenda. He's glad you're along for the ride but, well, it's his ride.
He has no clue.

That's what obedience training is for.
It's the owner's job to hold on tight until the dog learns what is best for him and ultimately, for everybody. And, even after he's learned, he still needs a firm hand because without it, you know exactly what will happen.

Woo hoo! I'm outa here!

photo: dogvacay.com

And sometimes, the dog never does learn. That's when he lives in a kennel or stays tied up in the back yard.

So who restrains me? Who keeps me from getting in trouble?
That, my friends, is the job of the Holy Spirit. 
And He does it not only for me, but for everybody else. And that's what I'm thinking about today.

The mystery of lawlessness is already at work; only He who now restrains it will do so until He is taken out of the way.--2Thessalonians 2:7

The Holy Spirit holds our leash. As a believer, He holds mine to the extent my free will allows Him, but he also holds back the effects of general evil among the unbelieving world, a world that benefits from a restraint they don't understand and don't recognize.

Do you remember that when I was still with you I told you these things? And now you know what is restraining that He may be revealed in His own time.--2Thessalonians 2:5

I can't imagine a world in which evil is not restrained.
It's bad enough the way things are.
Megalomaniacs. Serial Killers. Genocide. They are rare. Truly. That's why we notice them and are outraged. What would the world be like if atrocities were our daily fare? I can't. I don't think anybody really can. The world could be overrun by evil, but it isn't.
The Holy Spirit is holding the leash of evil. 
And waiting.

Someday, He will let go of His leash, but until then, I can use this time if I understand what it is for. It is within the bounds of His restraint that I can use what He teaches me to form a healthy conscience. I can learn to follow His laws. I can learn to enjoy and share His love. I can learn holiness. Holiness. Communion with a holy God. If I really were a dog, it might look like this:

photo: www.pets4homes.co.uk

My Big Mouth

pic: sausedo.net

Me and my big mouth. 
Indeed.

Don't you just hate it?
It's not the first potato chip--it's the twentieth, or the fiftieth.
It's not the kind comfort we speak, it's that tidbit, that little salty taste of gossip.
We love them. At first.
Later, not so much.

How in the world do I keep my mouth from getting me in trouble?
James didn't hold out much hope--
...no man can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.--James 3:8
Restless evil. No kidding.
Whether I'm putting something in my mouth or letting something out of it, I'm in danger.
Darn.

But a girl's gotta eat, doesn't she? And talk? It's not like I can just sew my mouth shut to keep from sinning in overindulgence or indiscretion. Somehow, I have to figure out how to tame the untamable. 
How in the world am I supposed to do that?

Paul has some advice along those lines:
Everything is permissible, but not everything is beneficial--1 Corinthians 10:23a
  So what I do with my mouth has to benefit everyone involved.
Everything is permissible, but not everything is constructive--1 Corinthians 10:23b
  What I do with my mouth has to help build up someone or something.
Nobody should seek his own good, but the good of others.--1 Corinthians 10:24
  I am not the focus of what goes into or comes out of my mouth. Other people are.
Whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all to the Glory of God.--1 Corinthians 10:31
  God is paying attention. Is He glorified by this? Really?


OK, what does that look like with arms and legs?
  Admit when I've done something wrong.
  Remember that lust is a sin. If I have to eat it or say it right now or I'll explode, I'd better shut my mouth instead.
Listen to my inner voice--
  If I feel even a little guilty afterward, I shouldn't have done it.
  If I eat when I'm not hungry, I shouldn't have.
  If I say something about somebody else that I wouldn't have said to their face, I shouldn't have.
  If I say something that elevates me above my companions or puts me down among them, I shouldn't have. It's not about me.

OK. I did it. Of course. What then?
Repent. Out loud.
Yes.
Out loud.
What does that sound like? How about, "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry." in front of everyone who heard you say it.
Or "I ate (or drank) too much again. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." in front of your dinner guests or your family.

Somehow, I have to make what I did wrong real. Because it doesn't seem to be now. Not real enough to stop.
It's important.
You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons, too.--1 Corinthians 10:21
I don't get it both ways. I don't get to excuse my behavior. I don't get to downplay or rationalize it.

This is self-control at it's best. It's not like giving up smoking or gambling.  
We have to eat and talk. We can't completely give them up. We just have to do them the way we were intended to. 
And there's a reward for this:
For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of your Lord Jesus Christ.--2 Peter 1:8
And that's what we wanted all along.

Fixing My Ouchies

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I have an infection.
How do I know? Because it hurts.
It's red and icky and swollen. Just looking, anyone can tell that something is definitely wrong.
I've tried to clean it out and de-infect it, but nothing's worked so today, I'm going to the doctor. I'm sure the doc will know what to do and afterwards, it will stop hurting.
Simple.

Nobody likes hurt.
Nobody likes it, but nobody escapes it. We all get hurt.
And some of our biggest wounds are the ones that don't show.
It's harder to show a doctor an infected heart than an infected finger. But it hurts just as much, maybe more. And just as when I don't get my infected finger cleaned out and healed, my emotional infection left untended will spread and get worse. Much worse.

We all know what physical infections look like when they're not tended. Nasty. But what do emotional hurts look like when neglected? They have repercussions, too. Like anger, and bitterness, and isolation.
OK--so when we go to a doctor, they ask us for symptoms of our physical malady. How about our other hurts? How about those symptoms? 
Who or what makes me consistently mad?
Or, what inexplicable outburst took me and everyone around me by surprise?
Who just always irritates me?
What kind of book or movie or remark always puts me in a bad mood?
Why do I pick on a particular person or behavior or habit?
When did I stop going to church?
Or hanging out with friends?
What makes me just want to hole up at home and avoid everyone?
What place or person or subject do I want to avoid no matter what?

I know that, if I don't get my finger healed up, the affected area will get bigger and eventually, I'll either get blood poisoning and die, or I'll catch it in time and it'll heal, but will leave a scar. Well, I have non-physical scars, too. And they are not without consequences.

Ironically, a physical scar won't hurt like the wound did. It might twinge a little once in awhile, but the constant, throbbing pain is gone. Someone can touch it, and I don't jump anymore. I know that a doc can probably help me with my physical hurt. But I have to get help with my other hurts, too. And just like my physical ones, I have to admit I hurt in the first place.

There's no shame in hurting. Jesus did, too.
During the days of Jesus' life on earth, He offered up prayers and petitions with loud cries and tears to the one who could save Him from death...--Hebrews 5:7a

Loud cries and tears. Jesus was not shy about telling God about His hurts. And what did God do?
...and He was heard because of His reverent submission.--Hebrews :7b

Jesus humbled Himself to admit there was something wrong and then accepted God's healing when He did. I have to do the same thing.
God wants to do for me exactly what I want the doc to do for my infected finger:
He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.--Psalm 147:3

But I have to admit that I need it. I have to look at the warning signs--the pain, the tenderness, the inability to engage in normal activities, and realize that I need to let God bind my wounds. I need to let the scar form if it must, and wear it as a sign that I've come through safe, after all.
We're pretty good at saying that God is the Great Physician. Now we have to act like it.

Still Rationalizing After All These Years

photo: www.imnotthatdrunk.com

I've finally figured out why I still sin.
I like it.

OK, some sins do revolt me but when I think about it, the sins I find disgusting are usually someone else's. When I take the unwelcome trouble of comparing my own thoughts, words, and actions against the two great measures God gave us--The Ten Commandments and the Beatitudes--the list of instances where I fall short is long. And when I take a good look at the list, most of the time I really wasn't aware that I was sinning at the time.

When I got mad, I thought my anger justified.
When I judged, I thought my judgement fair.
When I exaggerated, I thought it harmless.
When I bragged, I thought the self-praise well earned.
When I withheld help, I thought my caution prudent.
I didn't think my sin was sin. I thought I was being smart, careful, even discerning. 
I forgot that the life Christ requires is a life of abandon to Him, unmeasured love for Him, and humility before Him that takes no notice of me at all.

That's the problem. I keep remembering me, elevating me, comforting me.
I'm not supposed to do that. That's God's job--His promise, even. I am to remember and glorify God.

However, I usually want to take care of myself first. That's why I sin. I am not listening to God's perfect advice:
Love your neighbor as yourself.--Matthew 22:39
I will never hate myself. Not really. I will never forget myself. Not really. Well, I'm not supposed to do that to anyone else, either. But I do.

I hear a lot of religious-sounding flap about loving the sinner and hating the sin. Oh really? Am I prepared to do that toward myself? Is anyone?
I don't hate my sins. I excuse them, rationalize them, protect them. 
I have to be at least as ruthless with myself as I am with someone else.

Why do you worry about a speck of sawdust in your friend's eye when you have a log in your own?--Matthew 7:3
It's a wonder I can see at all. I must see and know God's genuine offense at what I have done. And it won't be pretty.

In order survive this look, however, I must first have a deep understanding that God loves me--that in His eyes, I am precious and renewed in His love day by day--and that He accomplishes this renewing as the Creator who made me with His own hands with full intent.  However, His love does not include prurient license. He, in His mercy, is perfecting me and in doing so, will not let me wallow in whatever pigpen I've chosen for myself.

Cleanse me with hyssop and I will be clean. Wash me and I will be whiter than snow.--Psalm 51:7

But in order to become clean, I must first admit that I am currently filthy. I must see my pigpen. And that part, if I am honest, is quite easy.

But I Don't Wanna Give it Away!

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Bind the sacrifice with cords, even unto the horns of the altar.--Psalm 118:27 (KJV)

Whenever the ancient Hebrews offered the best of their flock or herd to God, they tied it to the altar still alive, kicking and struggling. Once there, the shepherd bent back the animal's head and slit its throat with his own hands. Then, hands red with its blood, he watched it die.

Yuck.
I'm glad we don't have to do that anymore.

Not so fast.
Actually, I'm thinking that we do.
Think not that I am come to destroy the law and the prophets: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfill. --Matthew 5:17

The New Covenant Jesus introduced changed the old one, but did not put it away. We can eat pork now, but we must eat it to God's glory. We do not have to abandon disobedient children beyond the city gate, but we do have to abandon them to Christ. We don't have to slaughter our animals in church, but we do have to kill what is not godly in ourselves.

We are no longer required to kill a sheep, but we still have to raise the knife.

What do we have to kill now?
Put to death, therefore, everything that belongs to your earthly nature...--Colossians 3:5

Great. My earthly nature. Isn't that just about everything?
Well, yes, it is. Everything, at least, that doesn't resemble God.

This is going to hurt.
Well, yes again. It will hurt. That's what sacrifices do.
Do you really think that those Hebrew shepherds didn't look at those spotless lambs they kept having to bring to the temple and wonder whether they would be able to feed their family on what they had left over? Of course, they did. And so do we.

What are we supposed to give? Time, talent, and treasure, isn't it?
So what does that look like? Warning:  Some of this may sound familiar...

Time:  If I spend an hour or two praying or reading and studying my Bible, who will do my other work?
Talent: If I fix the church's computers, who will fix mine? If I take someone else's mom to the grocery store, will someone take mine? If I adopt this child, will my others suffer?
Treasure: If I give ten percent, or even more, what will happen to saving for a rainy day? If I ever need something, who will meet my need?

Remember, we have to bind up the sacrifice while it's still alive, not wait until we don't care anymore, until it's become comfortably surplus. When it finally goes up in smoke as incense, we need to watch it rise with some regret.

It's true that we are not to be foolish in this--there are limits. We are not usually called to give away all of our earthly attachments and possessions, but that does not mean we are not to give away any of them.

In the end, what I bind to the altar is concern for myself.
My comfort, my pleasure, my affection, my habits.
That's right. My hesitance to offer real sacrifice points to lack of faith, lack of trust in God. Every time we cling to something, we uncover an instance of unbelief.
We say that we believe that God has our back, but when we can't let go of something, whether it's material or human or emotional, that is the single thing we most desperately need to lay down. 
I'm sorry, but we have to kill it. 
"But I don't know what I'd do without it...." Exactly.
We don't know what we'd do without that thing or person or feeling. But God does.

Raise the knife against it, my friend. Raise the knife to it and trust God that, if you are not to kill it after all, He will stay your hand. He's done it before.

No Baggage, Not Even a Carry-On

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Pack light.
We get that advice everywhere, and not only for vacations. Did you ever try it? It's not easy.
Even Jesus gave that advice to His apostles:
These were His instructions: Take nothing for the journey except a staff. No bread, no bag, no money in your belts. Wear sandals, but not an extra shirt. --Mark 6:8,9

Well.
Now that's something to think about.
Nothing to eat. Nothing to wear. Nothing to spend to get either of them.
Why would He tell them to do such a thing?
Not because they wouldn't need them. They would. They would need to eat and find a place to sleep and, eventually, change their clothes.
Maybe He told them not to pack anything because the things they brought would hinder them.
No baggage, He told them. You may bring no baggage.
Not even a carry-on.

They were going out on their life's journey, accomplishing the task Jesus set them to do.
Well, I'm doing that, too, aren't I?
Maybe I don't get to pack anything for the trip, either.
Nuts.
And I thought I was doing pretty good, limiting myself to a single carry-on for a vacation, one junk drawer, a half a clothes closet. Guess not.

Take nothing for the journey, Jesus says. It's only stuff. 
That's true, but I don't think He's talking only about stuff.  I think He's talking about other baggage--the crippling guilt from my past, a sad longing for childhood or where I used to live, a petrifying desire to regain what God has clearly removed--situations, friendships, jobs, even loved ones.
Leave them behind, He says. You'll be OK. Honest.

Let the dead bury the dead--Luke 9:60
See, I am doing a new thing--Isaiah 43:19
Don't worry about anything--Philippians 4:6
Consider the lilies...--Luke 12:27

So what do I need?--a staff and sandals. What does that mean today?
It means, I think, the stuff, both interior and exterior, that facilitates my walk.
It's not another pair of shoes or another book or even another Bible study or community event--it's what I get today that helps me gain a firm hold on Christ right now.

Christ has appointed a way for every one of us. What are our own staff and sandals? What brings us closer to our goal?
We need to figure this out, because we're not supposed to take anything else.
For one of my friends, her day care business is her staff and sandals. That is what takes her before the Lord, both physically and spiritually. Through that, she not only ministers, but is ministered to. Not only children, but entire families, see God's light through her.
Another of my friends, a widow, is putting on her staff and sandals by selling her house and moving closer to her grandchildren. There, she will finish the work Christ has so evidently begun in her as a helper, a mentor, and a companion, but also provide a platform from which she is loved.
Both of these women are leaving behind the freedom that comes with maturity and investing where God has pointed them. Both are leaving behind lots of easier choices, opening themselves up to a life over which they have less control, not more. In short, they are dropping what supports an old world, leaving each known thing behind and picking up an unknown. They are emptying their bags of stuff, both physical and emotional, and in the process, I watch them both being changed and changing the world around them.

And, in the process, what they get is Christ.
Leave it all behind, He says, and you'll still have me. 
Leave it all behind. Eventually, you won't even miss it.
I am a light burden. You can carry me in your heart.