Fruit of my Knees

This, then, is how we know we belong to the truth, and how we set our hearts at rest in His presence whenever our hearts condemn us. For God is greater than our hearts, and He knows everything.--1 John 3:19-20

Part of the life I am called to before You insists upon humility and repentance. I must be constantly aware of my own sin and failure so that You can share Your life with me. But you are calling me to humility, not defeat. There is a big difference.

Humility brings me to my knees, confessing and understanding again how I sin, and why, and how to find enough courage and honesty to admit it fully. The repentance that must follow comes as a not only required, but natural, outflow of my acknowledgement of sin and love for You. I have done an evil thing before You, but You want so much to see me restored, that You climbed up on the cross and died. Now, having done that, You stretch out constant arms to welcome me home. That's the difference. Humility and repentance come to fruit in the lonely dark, but their world turns ever toward dawn.

Not so with condemnation. When the recognition of sin is followed by "I'm irrevocably stupid," or "I'll never get this right," or "You have forgotten me," or "I give up," then something else is at work. In the times that dark follows dark and the hammer comes down so hard that I think that I not only will die, but should, then I have forgotten You. You have promised a way out, always. You give me or allow in my life exactly what I need to achieve godliness, either for myself or for someone else, always.

I do not need to worry about this. I do need, however to monitor my repenting thoughts. I must condemn my sin and the author of it, whether it be the enemy of my soul, or my own flesh. A sweet little one told me once about one of his favorite movies and how, in it, the character exclaimed that God is "bigger than the boogie man." Whether our boogie man is another man who tempts us to evil, or spiritual devilry, or our own desire, You are always bigger.

You do not condemn those who love You. You save them. The fruit of our knees comes as a saving light right from You.

Location, location

Everyone who hears my words and acts on them is like a wise man who built his house on a rock. The rains came and the wind blew and it did not fall. But he who hears my words and does not act on them is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rains came and the wind blew and it fell with a crash. --Matthew 7: 24-28

Nobody wants their house to fall down around them, so Jesus, as He drew His Sermon on the Mount to a close, said essentially 'Build it on me.' He'd already been talking to them for a good long time and these were the last recorded words He said that day. Their position as final thoughts makes them important as a summary, but also begs the question as to exactly what they summarize.

I learned a long time ago that I have to take Scripture as a whole--examining passages individually for their finer points, but looking at them in context to see their larger application. So, closeup first. Jesus is saying that only when we not only hear, but live by what He teaches will our lives stand the test that are sure to come. I like that. Nice and simple.

But what teachings does this example summarize? Let's see--the sermon starts in chapter 5 with the beatitudes.

Blessed are the poor in spirit...Blessed are they those who mourn...Blessed are the meek...Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness...Blessed are the merciful...Blessed are the pure in heart...Blessed are those who are persecuted...

Jesus outlines the progression of His followers' lives, from understanding of sin, to mourning over it, to submission to His will, to a transformed life, and finally the privilege of suffering for Him. Then He moves on to say that His followers, the ones He just described in the beatitudes, are to be lights in the world, people who do more than just obey the written law. He expects those who say they love Him to go beyond what church leaders have both taught and exampled.

The next passages define what that extra effort looks like. Jesus expects His followers to go to lengths to make peace with enemies, to remain pure of heart, mind and body, to live in harmony and with commitment, to always tell the whole truth without hedging, to reach out to everyone with kindness and compassion, to be as perfectly human as He is perfectly God, to give generously, to pray with Him rather than the world in mind, and to fast only unto Him.

If we are able to do these things, we will also automatically do more. We will be storing up treasures in heaven and will live without succumbing to worry, not unduly judging others. He warns us that this will not be easy, that the this road is narrow and populated by wolves and robbers. Then comes the bit about the house on the rock.

You see what I mean? Jesus used the last image of the house because a house is where we put all our stuff and spend much of our time. We come home for refuge and for rest. In the whole first part of His sermon, He detailed what we should be storing in our cupboards and tucking under our bed. He wants us to hang generosity on the wall and light the candle of kindness. This house is not to be built with lip service. Every piece must come from the catalog He outlines beginning in chapter 5.

I once knew of a couple who spent every spare penny buying a house that they couldn't afford to paint once they moved in. That cannot happen with the house of our lives. Jesus did not subscribe to the realtors' old saying, "Location, location, location." His house is not built from the outside, but from the inside.

Create in Me

I have a wonderful Jewish Old Testament called the Stone Tanach that I like to read to bring an immediacy to the ancient stories that my Christian Bible sometimes lacks. For instance, it quickens creation by personifying God: "And God called to the light, "Day" and to the darkness, He called "Night". I can hear the very voice of God in those words and it brings a fluttering rush that makes me wish I were there to see it.

Of course, this book is also written by men with prejudice and interpretation and, while they stop short of changing the words, sometimes paint with broad strokes in their interpretation. This morning, I was reading about David. Like Moses and Abraham, David is revered by the Jews. I don't blame them. David, a man after God's heart, is everything I would like to be. He is passionate, loyal, brave, humble, joyful, loving, and more. He also brings an honesty and brokenness that never leaves the shepherd he once was completely behind. A good guy. Not a perfect guy, but a good one. Unfortunately, the Jewish interpreter who wrote the footnotes revered him a bit too much.

This morning, David was hanging around on his rooftop and spotted Bathsheba, the wife of one of his commanders, next door taking a bath. In that moment, David liked being the king. He called for her and slept with her, then later learned she was pregnant. With her husband at the battle front, that left him in a pickle, so he called her husband back, tried to get him to sleep with his wife so the child could be presented as his own and when that didn't work, put him in harm's way so that he was killed.

All of this looks pretty despicable to you and I, but not to the Jewish interpreter. Evidently, Jewish law allowed David to do pretty much everything he did. Bathsheba was not technically married because commanders routinely gave their wives divorce papers before they left for war so that they would be free to remarry right away if the men went missing in action. Also, well, David was the king, and when it came to women, it was good to be the king. He had a right to Bathsheba. In addition, when David told Bathsheba's husband to go home and sleep with his wife and he refused, he was guilty of insubordination and deserved death.

Not a bad deal. Technically, David had a proper reason to do everything he did. But he knew better. Technicality notwithstanding, David knew he did wrong in God's eyes, even if he had squeaked by before men. This is what makes him a man after God's heart. Squeaking by would not do for David because God does not accept it. God looks at actions, but does not stop there. He is not pleased when we do the right thing for the wrong reasons.

So, in the end, I admire David for his bravery, for his tenderness, for his faithfulness and joyful praise, but I remember him most for his honest repentance. The wrong we do presents a greater danger, and reveals a more ruthless enemy, than any other battle. Real courage is looking our own sins square in the face and calling them exactly what they are. Thank you, David, for your example.

For I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me. Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight...Create in me a pure heart, Oh God, and renew a steadfast spirit in me." Psalm 51:3,4,10

Beyond the Math

You were so darned human. As I strain hard to touch Your divinity, I keep getting derailed by Your flesh and blood. Because my own humanity does not, in fact cannot, exist alongside perfect holiness, I just find Yours so hard to comprehend. My entire human experience reinforces a simple principle:

Humanity = Sin
God = No Sin

Yet You lived as both God and Man. Clearly, I am missing something.

I know You were human less because You walked and talked and bled than by what You felt. You knew compassion, sadness, hurt, joy, loneliness. Animals and insects bleed, but they do not know love. You did. And a long time ago, when You lifted a handful of dirt and breathed Yourself into it, You shared Your ability to experience more than pulse and muscle movement. You gave us a part of Yourself.

Emotion is important not because of itself, the shedding of tears or the unexpected smile, but because of its source. The God who walked with Adam in the cool of the day was not flesh and blood, but Adam knew His presence by the awareness it produced in him. You were that God then, You were that God on Calvary, and You still are.

You do not walk in the cool of my day, but You lend me the parts of Yourself I recognize, all the loving and all the compassion and all the longing. I reach out and risk to feel because You did, and You take my hand in the process. Your humanity is not like mine, but You use it to make me a way.

Son of God = Son of Man

Oh Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing.--Matthew 23:37

First Light

I have wondered for a long time about how soldiers get ready for their days, the ones in which they know they will have to risk their lives in combat and during which they might die. The rest of us get up, brush our teeth, decide what to wear or what to have for breakfast, kiss our spouse, and go to work. Somehow, a solder has to rub sleep out of his eyes, shoulder his weapon, and prepare to fight for his life.

I have heard a few discussions about this, memories of times filled with bullets and explosions and blood. I have heard about days when the dead lay all around except for one. I have heard about the smell of spent shells and been asked to imagine the sound of the accumulated gunfire of a hundred men shooting at once, but I have never experienced anything even remotely like it. I do know, however, someone who has.

Israel's King David did not use a gun, but he did use spears and shields. And he also did something that few soldiers can: he found words for what he experienced.

Strangers are attacking me; ruthless men seek my life, men without regard for God. -Psalm 53: 3
See how they lie in wait for me! Fierce men conspire against me for no offense or sin of mine, O Lord--Psalm 59:3Every soldier must at some time cry out just like David did. And I'm ashamed to say it, so do I, even though my lot is less dangerous and the price much lower. Some days, enemies just seem to crowd around and I can almost hear their spears rattle. On those days, though, I have to find solace in the same place David did.
Contend, O Lord, with those who contend with me; fight against those who fight against me. Take up shield and buckler, arise and come to my aid. Brandish spear and javelin against those who pursue me. --Psalm 35: 1-2a

And on those days, knowing that we do not have the final say as to who wins or loses, who lives or dies, there is only one place to look for real assurance.
Say to my soul, 'I am your salvation.' Psalm 35: 2b
Rest, soldier. Your battle may still rage, but the Victor fights beside you, and has already won.

Pleasant Places

It seems that days have a kind of landscape, one that I survey shortly after opening my eyes. Some rise abruptly, full of peaks and crags, rocky and harsh. On these days, I know I will have to face difficulties or conflicts. On some days, dense trees huddle in a sheltering darkness, close and occasionally dank. This happens when the day promises to fill with chores, fine in themselves, but impeding a higher view. While I am under them, I can't see the sky. But some days stretch clear and open, like a meadow or a ripe field. Their horizon stretches unbroken from compass end to end where even no clouds interrupt their serenity. On days like this, obligations can wait, and both mind and body have permission to drift slowly in contemplation of Your glory.

Today started out like a meadow. The only things of this world that crowded around were Your Word and a soft cover. The chimes blew gently, singing in the breeze. Morning birds called for their breakfast. You spoke sweetly to my heart about Your love.

Then the phone rang. Everything changed. Suddenly familiar trees sprang up like intractable weeds that I tried to push aside, but would not move. My rimless plain vanished like a mirage. Traffic noise drowned out the birdsong. A tractor muffled the chimes. I got up with heavy feet.

Later, pushing the lawnmower, trying to find You, I lifted my face for a moment. There, in the middle of what I perceived as forest, I could smell fresh cut grass. As I ducked beneath the branches, I noticed them round and full with apple blossoms. You called me to the trees again today, but made even them beautiful in Your sight.

Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places. Ps 16:5-6

Counting Up

So many days start with lists of things to do, lists both physical and mental. But You reminded me today that, while I should busy myself and work during the day, my primary goal must remain finding You in all of it.

Frankly, piles of laundry do not inspire me toward heaven. Neither do the recyclables that need to be taken to the dump nor the floor that needs to be scrubbed. I can do them as work necessary in a fallen world and use them to demonstrate faithfulness, but they take a secondary place, much like Martha's kitchen duties: worthy because someone has to do them, but not the stuff of glory.

My days also encompass other activities, however. Some I can choose. The house needs to be cleaned, the dishes done, the garbage taken out, and the lawn mowed, but I do have choices regarding the rest. I do not need to grow all my own vegetables. I do not need to cook everything from scratch. I do not even need to write this. The life You have chosen for me makes all these optional. So, after the laundry is washed, dried, and folded, the refrigerator cleaned out, and the litter boxes emptied, with which other activities do I fill my day?

Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Psalm 90:12

You want me to choose whatever else I do wisely, not frivolously. You want me to count each one. You want me to raise my hand and my heart simultaneously and find You in my choices. So, what does that look like? Well, I may not have to grow all my own vegetables, but I find You when I see flowers burst open and sweeten a summer afternoon or when I pick a tomato from a branch heavy with fruit. I may not have to prepare all my meals from scratch, but I remember You when I feel a silky bread dough move under my hands while I knead it or smell deep garlic and cream swirl into a satin sauce. I may not need to run a day care center, but I recall Your love when I hold a child. I may not have to make my living as a writer, but I see Your truth rise out of the lush perfection in rightly placed words. So, I can choose to plant a flower or cook or babysit or write and use the time You have given to remember You.

In the end, you require some measure of drudgery and take pleasure that I am willing to do the mundane in your name, but then you make time for finding Your glory as well. I can use my spare time to go to Disneyworld or read drivel and You will not condemn me for it, but You deliver much more, a taste of You and Your glory, if I choose to number my days.