Trapped by Mammon

Photo: epicprofessionals.com

What exactly is mammon, I'm wondering? Whatever it is, it's important enough for God to talk about it:
No one can serve two masters. He will either hate the one and love the other or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon.--Matthew 6:24

Well, whatever mammon is, it's opposed to God. That's probably important.
The Greek for mammon, strictly speaking, is money. So I can't love both God and money. OK. I get that. But look at the context....the verse cited above falls in a section that discusses far more than only monetary wealth.

Do not worry about your life--what you eat or what you drink or for your body, what you put on...Which of you by worrying can add one moment to His life? ...Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness.--Matthew 6: 25, 27, 33

So it's about more than money. It's about everything around me, all the props of my life.
Seek first the kingdom of God, He says. Not anything or anybody else.
OK. I get that, too. But how hard can it be? I know God is more important than anything else, don't I? I can get by without a lot of money, or a closet full of clothes or even a long life. No problem.

Not, at least, until I think about the one thing I can't get by without.
Me.
I am why I want all that stuff in the first place. 
I am taking care of me. I am finding security. Security outside of God.

And that's the problem.
It never was the stuff. It's me.
If I have that stuff, I don't need to depend on God. I get to depend on me.
All the stuff of life, all the money and everything else, make good servants of God, but poor masters. And the same principle applies to my own body, my own desires.
If I give them up, I'll shortly become hungry or cold or bored, but if I'm honest, it's not the hunger or boredom I mind so much. It's the weakness. It's the vulnerability. It's the loneliness. 
I mind that a lot.

Why do I do this? Why do I spend so much effort taking care of myself, using the stuff around me to build a big wall of protection?
I know this--if I'm protecting myself with my stuff, that means that I am not trusting God to do it.
Period.
There's no other answer that makes sense.

I have to learn to trust Him. Him alone. Without the stuff.
He challenges me to this:
Test me in this, says the Lord Almighty, and see whether I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be enough room to store it.--Malachi 3:10
And there's only one way to learn this.
To stop protecting myself. That's what the stuff was doing in the first place. It was shielding me from hurt or want or disappointment or failure, but that's the problem. It is in only those places that God can show me His power. In depending on everything else, I'm preventing God from doing the one thing I want Him most to do.

But without my stuff, I panic.
I have spent all my effort in building my own reputation, paying my own way, bearing up with my own shoulders.

St Francis taught us a prayer that can help strip away our layers of protection:
O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console,
To be understood as to understand,
To be loved as to love;
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
It is in dying to self that we are born to eternal life.

In the end, this is what God wants me to say:
The Lord has become my protector.--Psalm 18:19
But He hasn't become my protector, has He? I have been my only trusted protector. Otherwise I wouldn't care about stuff so much.
Me. My stuff. My own. I have to, somehow, come to the end of it. And when I do, if I have no more strength, maybe I can, finally find God's.

God Never Says "Oops"

photo: www.studioonashoestring.com

Whenever something bad happens to me, my first reaction is to think that I don't belong in my situation. Surely, there's been some kind of mistake.
My son shouldn't be sick. I shouldn't have constant conflict with my boss. I'm not supposed to have broken my mother's prized china. My husband wasn't supposed to be downsized out of a job. Our car shouldn't have broken down. I wasn't supposed to lose my wallet. I wasn't intended to burn the turkey.
Wrong.
Wherever I am, I belong there.

No, no, you might say. The bad things that happen are the result of evil in the world. God doesn't want bad things to happen to you. He loves you. He wants you to be happy.

Hmm.
Is God really God, then?
Is He all powerful, all knowing? Does anything take Him by surprise? Is He unable to stop evil?
Um. I don't think so.

Regardless of what I want to believe about my situation, I am in it for one of only two reasons:
Either God has willed it, or He has allowed it.
Period.
If I do not admit this, then God becomes subservient to my will, to the devil, to chance, or to something else. And He can't. If He does, He is not God.
Whatever I or someone else has done to cause my present circumstances, God did not stop them. They happened. They may not look good, but my loving, perfect God has permitted them.
And this is where I get stuck.
Either God is perfect or He's not.
Either He can do anything, or He can't.

God is not selectively perfect. He is not selectively knowing. He is not selectively loving.
God is these things all the time.
He does not make me do stuff, but He does work all things together for good. He can turn my bad decisions, eventually, into good. He can turn evil inside out. He does it all the time.
He can do this because He does not live in moments of time. We do.
I see only this moment--this nasty tangle, this unfair circumstance.
God, however, sees the end of all things. He knows how a given set of circumstances works out not only for me, but for everybody everywhere. He has a plan and I can't, no matter how I mess stuff up, change it.

In fact, I am part of it:
From one man He made every nation of men that they should inhabit the whole earth, and He determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live. God did this so that men would seek Him, and perhaps reach out for Him and find Him, for He is not far from each one of us.--Acts 17:26-27

That's His plan.
For us to seek Him and find Him.
And, if I have to lose my wallet in the meantime, it's not God saying "Oops", it's Him working His plan.
I can live with that.

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

photo: www.videojug.com

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.