Trying to Make Sense…

I’ve been reading the Apostle Paul’s first letter to the Corinthian church devotionally that past week or so, and honestly, I’m just trying to make sense of it all, just like I’m trying to make some sense out of everything that has been happening in our nation since March 16, 2020.

Between reading 1 Corinthians, watching the evening news and reading Facebook and Twitter, there are some days (warning: confession ahead) I just don’t feel very much like a Christian. I really want to try and make sense of that, too.

Staying off social media might help, but for better or worse, more and more people are getting their news from social media than traditional means, so I suppose that just makes me normal. If I’m normal, then I suspect there may be a few of you trying to make sense of everything that is happening in our world, too.

CULTURAL DEBATES

I remember when the cultural debates among Christians centered around what movies it was appropriate to attend, or whether Christians should drink alcohol. Debates used to be about whether Christians should acknowledge Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, or whether it is appropriate to observe Halloween.

The morals and mores of our nation are in a tectonic shift. I almost hesitate to address the issues being debated today because it’s impossible to do the subjects justice in a single blog post, and besides the fact I’m likely to say something to offend someone and that will get me banned from WordPress. Then, others have said, “Silence is violence,” so what’s a person supposed to do?

Less than twenty years ago, same-sex marriage was only a blip on the cultural radar. Now, it’s the law of the land, and it’s front and center in the church, as well-meaning and socially concerned Christians attempt to formulate a response to that cultural shift. The issue has already split several denominations, and is on the verge of splitting the United Methodist Church. I’ve been trying to figure that one out for 20 years.

Likewise, the debate over the legalization of illicit drugs, namely marijuana, was relegated to the fringe of culture. There were a few proponents, but they were greatly in the minority, and no one, a mere 10 years ago could foresee the dramatic shift in that debate. Oh, that we should long for debates about the Easter Bunny!

SHADES OF GRAY

Wouldn’t it be nice to live in a world that was black and white? I’m not speaking racially, of course (I almost can’t even use the analogy today–someone will call me out for it), but I’m talking about a world where all the questions have yes or no answers—a world where something is either right or wrong. Sure would make life simpler.

We tend to think the Bible is really good at black and white answers, but that all depends on how one reads the Bible. We see God’s Ten Commandments, and they’re reasonably black and white: murder, covetousness, stealing, adultery, etc. All wrong.

The Bible is pretty clear on things that are right, too–like honoring God, honoring our parents, honoring the Sabbath. The shift in the cultural landscape has left us with situations and circumstances that are not quite so black and white. We’re left to try and make sense out of them, and live faithfully to the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and that’s no easy task.

Most of the debates for Christians rise or fall on how one reads the Bible. Some will argue that Jesus never said anything about homosexuality, or same-sex relationships. I would argue that he said a lot about it, all the way back in Genesis 2 (remember Jesus was present at creation), and in Matthew 5 and 19. And, it’s impossible to separate Jesus from his apostles, and what was Paul?

Others will argue differently. Whose Ph.D trumps (<– no political reference) whose? The point is there are a lot of issues not specifically addressed in Scripture for various reasons, yet we still have a responsibility to love God and love our neighbor, and we are often left with our own conscience to guide us. That’s another reason it’s so important to know what I (and by I, I mean you) believe.

THE CORINTHIAN EXPERIENCE

In reading 1 Corinthians, I learn the Apostle Paul dealt with similar problems in the first century. In a church in the city of Corinth, new believers were learning to live faithfully in a culture as diverse as our own. Paul was confronted with several questions which grew out of the pagan influence upon these early Christians. One such question focused on the question of eating meat that had been sacrificed to idols (Chapter 8). We’re not too worried in the 21st century about eating meat sacrificed to idols, but seeing how Paul addresses the issue helps me as I’m trying to make sense of living the disciple’s life today.

Here’s the issue: Most of the meat that was sold in the town market in Corinth came from sacrificial animals which were slaughtered at ceremonies in the local temples of pagan deities. Part of the meat of each animal was burned on the temple altar, part was eaten in temple ceremonies, and part was sold in the Corinthian marketplace for consumption at home. The question at hand was this: “Did these rituals somehow automatically taint the food with some weird spiritual voodoo? Could Christians eat meat that had been offered to idols?”

Some Corinthian Christians embraced the idea of liberty they obtained through faith in Jesus Christ. Paul founded this church, and he undoubtedly shared with them the same philosophy he taught the church he established at Galatia: “For freedom Christ has set us free;” (Galatians 5:1).

What wonderful knowledge to possess! But that was just the problem. Certain Corinthian Christians possessed this knowledge and they flaunted it, and they appealed to Paul to prove that it really didn’t matter if they ate meat offered to idols. They had a point to prove to those who said they shouldn’t eat the meat, and they felt they were superior because they had this special knowledge.

Paul said to the Corinthians who embraced their liberty, “You’re right! It doesn’t matter if you eat the meat because you and I know that there is really only one God, and those other gods are no gods at all, so in reality, the meat has not been offered to anyone or anything” (the Lynn Translation). Then, he said, “Before you get all puffed up, not everyone understands this reality. Some people still believe those idols are real, and to them, to eat that meat is the same as worshiping idols, and they are convicted in their own hearts because they are weak, and by your liberty, you could cause one of them to stumble.”

Paul would clarify. He said, “Look, here’s what happens. You get an invitation to a wedding down at the temple of Aphrodite. You know Aphrodite is not real so you see no problem with going to the ceremony and sharing in the reception. But someone who is weak in their faith sees you at the temple doing what they think is wrong, and they say, ‘Oh, well, he is doing it so it must be okay,’ and they eat, but later they are convicted in their own hearts because they ate. They get confused, and their confusion can destroy their faith. And, don’t forget Christ died for them just like he died for you. So don’t use your knowledge concerning your freedom to allow anything like that to happen. Instead, give up ever eating meat if eating meat might cause one for whom Christ died to be destroyed.”

LEGAL VS. ETHICAL

So, Paul really says this is not a legal question, but it’s an ethical one. That’s where it comes down for each of us concerning all the questions in the swelling cultural shift. They’re not so much legal issues as they are ethical issues.

Therein lies the problem. If it’s a legal issue, there’s got to be a law, and the law can settle the issue. Simple enough. But, ethics goes beyond the law. The Jim Crow laws reflect this reality. It’s the ethics that trip me up and keep me from making sense of all of it. It’s the ethics that make me think on some days, I’m just not very Christian.

The Ethic of Love

I note two principles Paul uses in counseling the Corinthians concerning this gray area. They are instructive to me as I seek to live faithfully to the Gospel. First, Paul says let love be your guide. In verse 8:1, Paul offers, “while knowledge may make us feel important, it is love that really builds up the church.” Pride gets in the way of our love. We think we have all the answers, that we know all there is to know. I like to call it “holier than thou.” Paul said it was that type of attitude that would destroy the church. Love is what really builds up the church.

Love is the principle that sets boundaries around my liberty. The moral decay we see in our culture hasn’t happened because we allowed gambling, or because we went to the movies, or because we played cards, or smoked cigarettes, or because some Christian somewhere made a questionable value judgment in a gray area of life. Moral decay has come because we embraced the right to liberty without simultaneously embracing the responsibility to love. Rights without responsibility quickly devolve into selfishness.

Paul reminds us in chapter 13 of this same letter that “love is patient and kind,” that love is not “boastful or proud, or rude.” Paul says, “Love does not demand its own way.” That means I don’t use my freedom quite as freely because I have a responsibility to someone else to help care for his or her soul. Love takes the mind that was in Jesus Christ, who chose to humble himself through the obedience that carried him all the way to the cross.

We build up the body of Christ, and those who are weaker in their faith when we show the love of Christ to them, and put their interests ahead of our own. I am reminded that sometimes love asks more than I’m prepared to give, and love often requires more than I’m willing to do. Those are the times I don’t feel very Christian.

But, the love Paul speaks of is sacrificial love. We want to say love is unconditional, but it is not. The condition is sacrifice, and it is the second principle that should guide me in living in these confusing times.

The Ethic of Sacrifice

Paul said, “If what I eat is going to make another Christian sin, I will never eat meat again as long as I live…” (v. 13). Paul was willing to give up his freedom if it meant building up someone who was weaker. He did not demand or cling to his right, but embraced his responsibility to his brother/sister.

We ask ourselves a simple question when confronted with those sticky issues that hang out in the gray areas of life: “Am I willing to stop what I’m doing if I find out it is causing another person to question it?” If I can answer that question in the affirmative, then I am observing the principle of sacrifice, which, by the way, is what Christ did for you and me. Remember, he did not cling to his own rights as God. He made himself nothing for humanity. It is Christ’s example. May it be ours, too? Why? Because what we do matters.

Our lives are contagious. Leslie Flynn points out in her book, Your Influence is Showing, that the Italian word for influence is influenza. The word influenza was introduced into English in the mid-1700’s, apparently coming from the Italian phrase that attributed the origin of this malady to an influenza de fredo (influence of the cold). Our example spreads to others as easily as the flu. Does our influence destroy or does it build up?

I’ve come to discover in my own life that while God does care about how good I am, He cares as much about how good I am to others. And, while God cares about my liberty, he cares more about my life. With love and sacrifice as my guiding principles, maybe I can begin to make a little sense out of this confusing culture.

Here’s the truth behind the truth: Love and sacrifice are nothing without the power of the Holy Spirit, for I cannot love fully as Christ loved in my own strength, and I cannot offer myself as a sacrifice for the sake of others by the force of my own will. Only when I surrender to the Spirit’s power does my love become sacrificial. Only when I give myself to the Holy Spirit does He take this confusion and transform it into something rational, wise and, dare I say, holy.

That’s the truth our culture needs as much as I need it.

Until next time, keep looking up…

In This (Together?)…

the-scripture.co.uk

A Facebook friend conducted a (very unscientific) poll and asked the question, “What’s your least favorite term out of this whole COVID-19 thing?” My immediate thought was the phrase was “a new normal.” There is nothing about this new that should be considered normal by an reasonable person, and there are very few life adaptations that we should want to get accustomed too.

There were other responses that ran the gamut from amusing to sarcastic:

  • “Flatten the curve…”
  • “This mess…”
  • “Mandatory…”
  • “Cancelled vacation…”
  • “Social distancing…”
  • “Herd immunity…”
  • “Essential businesses…”
  • “Shelter in place…” (which really should be “shelter at home”)
  • “Together alone…” (Really? Is that even possible?)

Hardly Together

Well, you get the picture. Quite an interesting array of phrases used to capture our current climate. As I reflected on all the responses, “new normal” may be my least favorite, but the most overused (and incorrect) phrase is “We’re all in this together.” It only takes a cursory scroll of any social media, or three minutes into the latest newscast to discern that yes, we are all in this, but we are definitely not together!

Watch President Trump’s daily press briefings and tell me we’re in this together.

Watch CNN, and then watch FOX News and tell me we’re in this together.

Talk to the introvert who still has a job and earns a paycheck while working from home in flip flops and shorts while sipping cocktails, and then talk to the grocery clerk who MUST go to work and stand all day just to pay the rent and tell me we’re in this together.

Listen to the myriad “experts” who say we must not ease the “lockdown” restrictions too quickly, and then listen to the myriad “experts” who say we must open the economy immediately and tell me we’re in this together.

Talk to the person who has received the “stimulus” check, and then talk to the person who hasn’t and tell me we’re in this together.

Talk to the small business owner whose business has been declared “non-essential,” and then talk to the chairman of Home Depot and tell me we’re all in this together.

Talk to the person who lost a spouse or a parent to COVID-19, and then talk to the person who doesn’t know anyone with the disease and tell me we’re in this together.

I say again–We’re in it, but we’re definitely not together.

Where we sit determines our perspective. Even as I write that sentence, I’m remembering an encounter Jesus had one day with two very different people looking at life from two very different perspectives, yet their lives converged around Jesus, and because they did, they were both changed forever.

Perspective Matters

The encounter is recorded in Mark 5. Mark’s gospel characterizes Jesus as a person always on the move–on an incredible journey, if you will. But, it was a journey fraught with detours. On this detour, Jesus encounters two very different people:

  • He’s a rich man, she’s a poor woman
  • We know the man’s name, but the woman remains nameless
  • He’s an honored Jew, she’s simply a unclean, ostracized woman
  • He approaches Jesus from the front, but she slips up to Jesus from the back
  • He’s had twelve years of joyful life with a wonderful daughter, she’s had 12 years of miserable, incurable pain

The contrast of these two could not be more profound, yet they were in the same condition—utterly helpless. Sometimes, that’s the best place to be. Martin Luther gives us an example. Luther made the statement that his greatest insight into God’s grace came to him while he was “on the toilet.” That sounds crass to us in the 21st Century, but when we understand the phrase “on the toilet” was a common metaphor for being in a state of utter helplessness, it throws Luther’s statement into a different light. Jairus and the unnamed woman were right where Martin Luther was when he discovered God’s grace.

A Rich Man

Jairus was helpless because of his daughter’s condition. She was on her deathbed, and this father, knowing nothing else could help,  reached out to the only hope left open to him. As a leader of the synagogue, Jairus was obviously a man of some means. Well-respected in the community, he was a man who was “clean” as far as the law was concerned. But, his money, his position, his place in the community were all worthless in this helpless situation. In an act of sheer desperation, He reached out to this radical rabbi who has been making waves around the countryside.

Jairus had done all, and in that moment the only thing that mattered was his daughter. Not his position, not his place in the community, not his money. Clean, un-clean, sinners or no, Jesus was his last best hope to bring healing for his daughter.

There’s a great lesson for me here: No one is above needing Jesus.

A Poor Woman

The poor sick, nameless woman is a stark contrast to Jairus. For twelve years, she had been unable to go to synagogue, possibly the one Jairus now led. For her to be in the crowd at all was a monumental statement on her part, and it demonstrates her utter helplessness. Not only was she unclean, but she was dead broke. Mark says she has spent all her money and the problem was actually worse. She was broke physically, spiritually and financially. She was as broke as a person could get. Clean or unclean, crowd or no crowd, Jesus was her last best hope for healing.

Two incredibly different people in the very same situation, but the only thing they were together on was Jesus. I wonder if Jairus thought as Jesus stopped to help the woman, “Jesus, why waste such precious time on this unclean woman? My daughter is dying!” Jesus’ response teaches me that, just as no one is above needing Jesus, so no one is insignificant to Jesus.

Jesus came for the up and out, and Jesus came for the down and out. The only thing these two people had in common was a need for Jesus. Two distinctively different people from two distinctively different worlds bound together by a deep need for healing and wholeness. Their utter helplessness found them both, as Mark says, falling “at the feet” of Jesus. This encounter reminds me of the old saying, “the ground is level at Calvary.”

It is said that after the Civil War, General Robert E. Lee, a devout Christian, visited a church in Washington, D.C. During the Communion service, he was seen kneeling beside a black man. (Turn your virtue signals off!) Later, when someone asked how he could do that, Lee replied, “My friend, all ground is level at the foot of the cross.”

Our Common Need

What makes that ground so level? The awfulness of our sins, the terrible price Jesus paid to forgive them, and the love He has for all people. We can all kneel together at the foot of the cross. In God’s economy, nobodies are somebodies and somebodies are nobodies. Life is not fair to the upwardly mobile or the down and out. One thing we need to remember is that bad times are bad times no matter who we are. The only thing we may truly be together in is our need for grace. Jesus loves us all, and is as ready to offer his grace to one as another. What matters is our openness to receive his grace.

Hope said they could find help in an encounter with Jesus. Hope brought faith, and faith is the key to surviving the bad times, or at least surviving them without bitterness and blame. To the woman, Jesus said, “Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace, you’ve been healed.”

Then, friends of Jairus came and said, “You’re daughter is dead. Don’t bother him any longer.” Jesus only looked at Jairus and said, “Don’t be afraid. Just trust me.” Jairus had a choice to make: Trust Jesus, or trust the other voices around him.

Jairus chose to listen to Jesus. He acted on his faith, just like the unnamed woman, and he saw the life-changing, life-giving power of God revealed in Jesus Christ. There’s another lesson for me: Faith makes all the difference. Faith is believing something so that our actions are changed as a result. Belief about Jesus does not bring healing, wholeness or salvation. Following Jesus does!

Do we have faith in Jesus? Our actions should reflect that fact. I am reminded of the Roman officer who came to Jesus asking him to heal his servant boy. Jesus said, “I’ll come with you,” but the officer said, “No, I understand authority. I tell a soldier to do this and he does it. You just say the word and my servant will be healed.” Jesus said, “I haven’t seen such faith in all Israel! Go, your servant is healed.”

If we have faith, we’ll hear Jesus and we’ll obey Jesus. Like, when he said, “All authority has been given to me in heaven and on earth, therefore, go, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the father, son and holy spirit, and teach them all things I have taught you. And, lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

I suppose we are more together than I give us credit for. The pandemic has left us all at the mercy of something totally beyond our control. In that regard, we’re pretty much helpless.

We also live in a world left helpless by the power of sin. How we see that sin depends on our perspective, but no matter our perspective, our need for Jesus remains the same. Church, do you think we can at least be together in that?

Until next time, keep looking up…

I Have My Doubts…

I think we’re in a bit of a double bind. You know what a double bind is, right? A double bind is a situation in which a person is confronted with two irreconcilable demands or a choice between two undesirable courses of action. Our double bind comes because we’re being told we must “listen to the experts.” Well, which experts would that be? The ones who tell us we must remain in lock down due to the Coronavirus, or those who tell us we have to open the economy to prevent the collapse of our economy? I suspect which expert we chose to listen to has much to do with which side of the political aisle we occupy. I’ll confess that I have my doubts about the experts on either side, but that’s probably just a result of my natural cynicism.

Doubting Thomas

Of course, I’m not the first person to play the cynic and express my doubts. I’m remembering the Apostle Thomas this week after Easter. John relates the story in his gospel (John 20: 24 – 29) that Jesus appeared to his disciples after his resurrection, but Thomas wasn’t present. The disciples told Thomas about the encounter, but Thomas said, “I’ll believe it when I see it” (the Lynn paraphrase). Thomas had his doubts, too. I’m feeling like I’m in pretty good company.

We just don’t expect dead people to live again. Why do we suspect it was any different in the 1st century? Doubting Thomas? Surely it would be doubting Lynn, too, if I were in Thomas’s shoes. I think Thomas has been the scapegoat for the church and everyone else who ever said doubt was wrong, or that it is somehow unfaithful to need a sign, or a vision, or a personal encounter.

Why can’t we ask the hard questions without being labeled a cynic, a skeptic, or worse, a hater? Are questions bad? Is there something wrong with admitting we don’t understand everything? Is it wrong to ask God to clarify a few things? I hope not! Think about Job. Job had questions. And the Psalms are full of questions, uncertainties, and not a few complaints. Even Jesus, hanging on the cross, asked the question of the ages, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Thomas is just the next in a long line of faithful folks who raised their voices to ask God hard questions.

Faith is Hard

Thomas’ undeserved reputation notwithstanding, I learn two important lessons from his encounter. Lesson one: Doubt is a testimony to the difficulty of faith. It’s just hard to believe. Faith takes work, and honestly, sometimes I’m just too lazy to believe. Faith takes work because it puts us in uncomfortable places and begs us to ask tough questions. Genuine faith says it is okay for us to ask questions of God.

Faith is when we are willing to embrace the doubts, ask the questions, and face the answers. Jesus knew faith in the Garden of Gethsemane. It was there he was willing to say, “If…” And, on the cross, too. The Apostle Paul knew faith on the Damascus Road and in a Roman prison. They knew, and I learn, that faith is believing something that is totally beyond my comprehension, but being unafraid to try to believe it anyway. Jesus could say from the cross, “Into your hands I commit my spirit.” Paul could say, “Your grace is sufficient for me.”

The Christian faith is not some cut-and-dried faith. Faith in Jesus Christ cannot be reduced to a set of rules, where everything fits, where everything makes sense, where all we have to do is connect the dots. That’s what the Pharisees tried to do. They had to explain everything in a formula; to make all life so that it could be answered by a set of rules, and if it didn’t fit within that hard and fast set of rules, it was rejected as heresy or blasphemy. Well, Jesus didn’t fit within their set of rules, and look what happened to him. Consequently, their eyes and their hearts were closed to the very thing God was doing in their midst. They were blind to the miracle standing right in front of them.

Sometimes, our faith will ask us to look outside the box; to color outside the lines, and believe some things that the rest of the world says are ridiculous. Some things like believing a virgin could have a baby (I believe that!), or that God and man could live in one person (I believe that, too!), or that Jesus would die for the sins of the world (and I believe that one, too!), or that Jesus could actually rise from the dead (we all better believe that one). Our faith may ask us to do things that the world says are pointless, and that will be hard work, indeed. That work will raise a few doubts, but the doubts will testify that faith is no easy thing.

Faith is an Encounter

Lesson two: Faith begins with an encounter. Like Thomas, until we see the risen Lord ourselves we can’t believe. Until we see Christ, the resurrection is about as silly as seeing Elvis at the convenience store, but a personal encounter with Jesus changes all that. When we encounter Jesus personally, the lines of our lives get blurry. The line between believing and not believing, and the line between life and death are suddenly crossed. Those lines once seemed so absolute. When I meet Jesus…not so much, anymore.

Thomas’ story is ultimately a miracle of faith. His mind was opened and his heart swelled with the words, “My Lord and my God!” All because he had a personal encounter with Jesus. Without the personal encounter with the risen Lord, Thomas would have continued to wallow around in his own doubt. At best, he would have been stuck in a world where the rules cling only to those things which are possible.

Do you know the difference in Thomas and the other disciples? Thomas was a week late, that’s all. The other disciples needed a personal encounter with Jesus as much as Thomas did. Remember, they were hiding in a locked room, cowering in fear of the Jewish leaders when Jesus first appeared to them. They were just as afraid and doubtful as Thomas ever was. Faith and understanding began only after Jesus made himself personally known to them.

That’s true for us, too. We remain in our own cynical, skeptical little world until Jesus breaks through the door of our locked hearts. There’s the miracle in all this: Jesus searches us out and finds us, even when we don’t want to be found. We can lock ourselves away from the world, we can lock out the Good News, but Jesus, if he wants us, breaks through that door. We Wesleyans like to call that prevenient grace.

No Second-hand Jesus

If a stone couldn’t keep Jesus in a tomb, I don’t think a wooden door was going to keep him from getting to the disciples with the Good News of his resurrection. We all need a personal encounter with Jesus Christ before we can declare, “My Lord and my God!” A second-hand Jesus just won’t do.

Encountering Christ was simple enough for Thomas. Jesus was right there. He’s right here, too. Jesus breathed the Holy Spirit upon those first disciples. He breathes the Holy Spirit on us, too. The Holy Spirit makes Jesus present with us today. The Holy Spirit is present in our worship. The Bible says God inhabits the praise of His people. When we praise God, He is present and we encounter Him. Through music, through the Bible, through study and prayer, we encounter the One who was raised from the dead because he has given us His Spirit to know He is here. And, we encounter Him every time we receive the Lord’s Supper or participate in the sacrament of baptism.

If others are to encounter Jesus they will encounter him through us. That’s why evangelism is so important. We have to leave our locked little worlds and share the story of the resurrected Christ with others. The world will have their doubts, but others will not know Jesus apart from us. They will encounter Jesus when they  see him alive in us, when they see the way he loves them through us, when they see the way we respond to those in need, when they see the way we care for all that God has entrusted to the church. We give others a first-hand encounter of the risen Lord, and that is where faith begins.

I will probably continue to have my doubts about all these experts and the Coronavirus, and I’ll just be skeptical and continue to ask questions, but one thing I’ll never doubt is Jesus, and His love for me. That’s one doubt we all need to reconcile.

Until next time, keep looking up…

The Controllables…

nintendo controlLooks like we’re in this thing for the long haul (or at least until April 30th) so I suppose we just have to settle in and adjust to the “new normal.” I’ve heard and read that phrase many times since March 13th when President Trump issued the national emergency in light of the Coronavirus. I must say that I don’t like that phrase because there is nothing normal about the situation in our nation and in the world. I think it is an acquiescence to the fear that is in us to accept this “new” normal. What we are living in is abnormal, and I, for one, will be fighting with all that is in me to get things back to normal when we finally “flatten the curve” on this virus.

But, what do we do in the meantime? For as many times as I’ve heard or read “new normal,” I’ve also heard or read some pundit or article giving advice about living in the meantime. If there’s one thing I’ve discovered during this pandemic, it’s that everyone fancies him/herself an expert. I’ve seen or read a lot of non-medical personnel offering “expert” advice on medical issues. I’ve seen or heard a lot of non-financial folks giving financial advice. I’ve gotten a ton of emails and seen a boatload of promoted posts on social media from “life coaches” trolling for new clients offering their services in the face of the pandemic–they’re all experts, too!

Well, I figured that I’m an expert in my opinion, so that should qualify me as an expert. With that in mind, let me offer my expert opinion on how we live in the meantime. It’s really simple advice, but I’ve found it incredibly helpful to me personally. The advice is simply this–focus on the things you can control.

There are so many things that are out of our control during this time. Rather than spend time focusing on those things, why not focus on that which we can control? Just makes sense to me. It was best expressed in a meme I saw on Facebook:Important Control

I’ve decided that I’m focusing my time and effort on the important things that I can control, and as the meme points out, that’s a rather small area. So, what are those important things that I can control?

Control My Inputs

First, I can control my inputs. One thing we can’t control is the amount of time we have to spend at home. What I can control is how much time I spend in front of the television streaming Netflix or Amazon Prime. Certainly, streaming services have changed the way we watch television, but there’s no mandate that we have to sit and binge watch the entire series of Tiger King, Ozark or Narcos Mexico. After watching the entire season 2 of Narcos Mexico in the first week of the “stay-at-home” order, I discovered my mind becoming mush.

I can also control how much news I watch. Let’s not forget, folks, that CNN, MSNBC and Fox News are more opinion than news these days, and each has its own pundits who are driven more by agendas than basic facts. They’re also driven by advertising dollars, and they’ll do whatever they can to gain viewers. Fear sells, friends, and I can’t help but wonder if we’re buying too much of what they are selling, and it’s destroying us from the inside out. Rather than spending six hours watching news channels, why not watch President Trump’s press conference, your governor’s press conference and your local news, then make up your own mind about the facts?

Control My Attitude

Second, I can control my attitude. I can’t control the fact that “experts” base their models on “worst case” scenarios, and those scenarios are what get reported (see fear selling above) in the media, but I don’t have to succumb to the fear those reports often generate. I can choose to be fearful, or I can choose to be hopeful. After all, aren’t we who follow Jesus Christ, supposed to be the most hopeful of people? What does it say to a fearful world when the world see us reflecting the same fear?

I can choose anxiety, or I can choose peace. Part of my family was gathered last Sunday (we had already been around each other, so don’t judge!), and in our time together I shared a passage from John’s Gospel:

32 “A time is coming and in fact has come when you will be scattered, each to your own home. You will leave me all alone. Yet I am not alone, for my Father is with me.

33 “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16: 32- 33 (NIV)

I wanted my family to know that though we may be separated for a time that we are never alone, and that should bring us peace. So, I’ll choose peace because I can control that choice.

Control My Actions

Finally, I can control my actions. I can’t control when someone treats me rudely in the grocery store for getting too close to them, but I can control how I respond when they do act rudely. Of course, it helps to remind myself that when someone lashes out because I violated the six foot rule or didn’t wear a mask, that they are reacting in fear, and that their actions are a reflection of their character, not mine. What I can control is whether I respond rudely or with an apology. I pray my character would lead me to respond with an apology, and to be more aware of others around me.

I also can’t control what someone posts on social media, but I’ve come to learn that I don’t have to respond to every idiot on social media. It breaks my heart that followers of Jesus are often so blatant in calling one another out on social media. Have a different opinion than another sister or brother in Christ? Fine. Rather than offer your alternative opinion in an often condescending way, why not simply post your own thoughts in a separate post without mentioning names? And, if the disagreement is sufficiently pronounced, why not message the person directly, or better yet, pick up the phone and call them. It is not a helpful witness to the world for them to see us fighting among ourselves.

So, I’m just going to focus on the controllables in my life. I don’t think “controllables” is a word, but it sounds good to me. I can control my inputs, my attitude and my actions. They’re all incredibly important, and can make the difference in how I endure the uncontrollable nature of the coronavirus.

Until next time, keep looking up…

Once the Dust Settles…

Now that the dust has settled on #gc2019, I thought I’d make one last post as a means of processing my reflections on the whole debacle in St. Louis. Honestly, the dust hasn’t settled on #gc2019. If you follow any social media at all, or anything remotely connected to the United Methodist Church, you are well aware that emotions are still high–I’m wondering if the dust will ever settle. Additionally, the Judicial Council will review the “Traditional Plan” in April and I suspect many of these same emotions will show up again…assuming, of course, that the dust has settled.

Here are my ruminations on #gc2019:

I can’t imagine the people who gathered in 1968 could ever envision a General Conference like the one in St. Louis. Surely they could never forsee a denomination birthed in the unifying of two parts of the body of Christ which produced a “big tent theology” could devolve into what the world witnessed in St. Louis. It was not a show of unity in the body of Christ. If anything, the gathering showed just how broken is this denomination called United Methodist.

Notice that I did not say “congregations.” I intentionally wrote “denomination.” Our denomination is broken. I’m grateful to David F. Watson for admitting that here. In spite of the denomination’s brokenness, there are many, many local congregations that are healthy and even growing. For that I am also grateful. It just proves the point that all church is local church. The local congregation is where disciples are made. The local congregation must be the focus of energy for the people called United Methodist now that the dust has settled.

The Traditionalist Plan prevailed at #gc2019. Notice I did not say it won. Nobody won. The Traditionalist Plan received the most votes by roughly a 6% margin. It didn’t matter which plan prevailed in voting there would be an emotional response by the other side. It wasn’t a matter of “if” someone was going to be upset, it was only a question of “who” was going to be upset. We should have seen that fact before we ever got to St. Louis. Our first clue should have been when the Commission on “a” Way Forward finished its work with “three” ways forward. If a group of 32 couldn’t agree on a single proposal, it was fairly certain a group of 864 wouldn’t find one either.

The results of #gc2019 sets up the denomination for more of the same once the dust settles. Some of our leaders have said as much–you can view that here. Some of our bishops will continue to enforce the Discipline. Others will not. Some of our clergy will continue to uphold the Discipline. Others will not. Some of our congregations will continue to welcome and celebrate same-sex marriages. Others will not. And, everyone will feel justified in the actions they take. Perhaps this fact indicates the obsolete nature of our polity in the United Methodist Church. Perhaps it is an indication that restructuring our polity needs to be the topic of conversation when the General Conference next meets in May of 2020 in Minneapolis, MN. It won’t be, but perhaps it should.

I believe that #gc2019 lost the one chance it had to provide a legitimate way forward. The Connectional Conference Plan was perhaps that vehicle. It would have provided space for all of us to stand firm in our convictions while maintaining some sense of missional unity. It is abundantly clear that we United Methodists are not functioning practically as one denomination. Very few (including myself) gave it much consideration. On legislative day, only 12.44% of the delegates voting gave it “high priority” status. The potential of passing all the constitutional amendments necessary to enact the plan was just too daunting for many to give it serious consideration. We may wish we would have reconsidered once the dust settles.

After witnessing #gc2019, I wonder who in their right mind would offer themselves to serve as a delegate in 2020? I know some Annual Conferences sent newly elected delegations to St. Louis, but most will return to their Annual Conference gatherings this spring and summer to elect new delegates for GC 2020.  Will there be any who offer themselves? Sure there will be. Will I be one of them? Probably.

Perhaps desiring to return to GC 2020 is like watching a train wreck. You want to look away, but you just can’t. My prayer is that those delegation elections don’t become a reflection of what happened at #gc2019. Hopefully, the relationships we’ve built with one another through years of ministry together will prevail once the dust settles, and we’ll elect strong, faithful leaders who will listen to one another, pray with one another and trust one another enough to move the United Methodist ship forward.

These ruminations notwithstanding, it’s time for me to refocus my energy on the local congregation I serve. There is enough mission and ministry right here to occupy my time. This is where we’ll make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. I’m going to engage my passion for seeing the world connect to Jesus Christ. I’m going to engage my passion for growing with one another in Jesus Christ, and I’m going to engage my passion for being a local congregation positioned to serve the world for Jesus Christ. Once the dust settles, isn’t that what life in the church is all about?

I’m moving on now from #gc2019. I’ll not write anymore blogs about it (which only means there won’t be as many people reading it). I’ve committed to one more conversation in our congregation concerning it, but that won’t happen until after Easter. Otherwise, I’m moving on.

It’s time to observe a holy Lent. It’s time for me to repent of my own sin, not only as it regards the brokenness of our church, but also as it regards the brokenness of my own life. It’s time to ask God to forgive me, and it’s probably time to ask a few others to forgive me, too. It’s time to focus on the sacrifice of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, and it’s time to focus on how I can be more like him and less like myself.

So, I’m moving on now. General Conference has spoken (for better or worse). Who’ll join me?

Until next time, keep looking up…

This Fruit is Always in Season…

I’ve been teaching from A Firm Foundation: Hope and Vision for a New Methodist Future on Wednesday evenings. The book is a collection of essays designed to cast a compelling vision for a renewed Methodist movement, specifically in light of the current debate within the United Methodist Church.

I bring the book up only because of the chapter I read/taught last week–“When the Holy Spirit Comes with Fire.” I won’t unpack the chapter here for you, but reading the chapter and preparing to lead the Wednesday night group caused me to dig deeper on the Holy Spirit. My digging reminded me of much I had forgotten (okay, not forgotten, but taken for granted) about the work and power of the Holy Spirit in our lives.

My digging deeper took me specifically to the Apostle Paul’s letter to the Galatian Christians. In Galatians 5, Paul instructs the Galatians on living the Spirit-filled life (read the whole chapter here), and in that context he offers his list of he calls the “fruit of the Spirit.” You know the list, right?

22 But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these things!

I’ll confess my own conviction as I read that list again (I’ve probably read it one thousand times before). I was convicted because there was one noticeable fruit that I can acknowledge has been absent from my life, and I believe the fact that I’ve been consumed with General Conference 2019 has put me in this place. The missing fruit, you ask? Joy!

We are, by the presence of the Holy Spirit, supposed to be joy-filled people.  One of my favorite stories about a person with a grumpy personality begins with a man going into the doctor’s office.  As he walked in, he was met by the receptionist.  He told her that he had a sore on his chin that he wanted the doctor to examine.

She said to him, “Down the hall, first door to the right, and take off your clothes.”

“But ma’am,” he said, “it’s just a sore on my chin. I don’t think all that is necessary.”

She repeated, “Down the hall, first door to the right, and take off your clothes.”

“But ma’am,” he said.

“Down the hall, first door to the right, and take off your clothes.”

So he went down the hall, took the first door to the right, walked in and saw another man already sitting there in his boxer shorts, shivering. He said to him, “Boy, that receptionist is really something, isn’t she? I just have a little sore on my chin and she told me to come down here, go through this door and take off my clothes.”

The man in the boxer shorts said, “You think that’s bad? I’m the UPS delivery man.”

There a lot of days recently that I felt like that nurse. But, joy is supposed to be one of the fruits that is always in season in the Christian.

What is this fruit of joy? The Greek word is chara, meaning “cheerfulness, calm delight.”  Unfortunately, I confuse joy with happiness. If I’m happy, then I am joy-filled, and if I’m joy-filled then I’m happy. That is incorrect. Joy is not happiness, and happiness is not joy. Actually, I can be happy and full of joy, but I can be unhappy and still be full of joy. Happiness is external. Joy, in the biblical sense, is internal. Happiness is based on chance. Joy is based on choice. Happiness is based on circumstances. Joy is based on Christ. Happiness is too often conditioned on what is “happening” to me. If people treat me well, and things are going good around me, then I am happy, but if things go wrong then my happiness is likely to be as fleeting as my circumstances.

Joy, however, goes beyond my circumstances. Joy throbs throughout Scripture as a profound, compelling quality of life that transcends the events and disasters which may dog God’s people. Joy is a divine dimension of living that is not shackled by circumstances. The Hebrew word means, “to leap or spin around with pleasure.”  Listen to the Psalmist:

16 But as for me, I will sing about your power.
    Each morning I will sing with joy about your unfailing love.
For you have been my refuge,
    a place of safety when I am in distress. Psalm 59: 16

The Apostle Paul understood this, too. He wrote to the Corinthian Christians: Our hearts ache, but we always have joy (2 Cor. 6:10). Joy should never be dependent on what is happening around us. Too often, unsatisfied expectations, unresolved conflict (like we have in the UMC right now), or unconfessed sin can serve to steal our joy from life. These are just three reasons that joy seems such an elusive fruit.

But there’s hope!  And that hope is spelled J-O-Y! I was reminded of this pattern on a church sign not far from my house. I think it’s really what solidified the message I’ve reflected on over the past couple of weeks. It is Jesus, Others, and You. Joy starts with a relationship with Jesus Christ. Jesus is the source of our joy, and Jesus is the example of our joy. If we don’t know Jesus, we don’t know joy. If we know Jesus, we should know joy.

Then, others. If we’re serious about desiring to bear the fruit of joy, we must make sure we are doing OK on the horizontal dimension of life by living in biblical community with others. We will never know joy apart from others.

Finally, you. You have the challenge, and here it is: Go to church, get connected to Jesus and serve others. You’ll find joy in great abundance, and you’ll discover that the  fruit of joy is always in season.

Until next time, keep looking up…

What to Do When Your Job Stinks!

new-orleans-saints-wallpapersI’m a Saints fan, and sometimes I like to turn down the sound on the TV and turn up the sound on the radio, and listen to the radio broadcast from the Saints broadcasting network. It makes for a much more fan friendly broadcast to listen to the “home” team announcers on game day. I mention that, not because it has anything to do with this blog, but because I love one of the advertisers on game day. It’s River Parish Disposal Company. There’s nothing special about the company, I just love their motto. The motto of River Parish Disposal Company is “Business stinks. But, it’s picking up!”

That motto sums up the ministry of Jesus as we read it in John 11, at least on this day in question. Setting up the scene, Jesus’ friend Lazarus has died. He’s been challenged by his co-workers and the two sisters of his friend, Lazarus. Let’s face it. It’s never a fun day to go to a funeral, and this was after the Jewish leaders had tried to stone him and arrest him. This was a day when Jesus’ job really did stink, and as we read in the text, it didn’t just stink figuratively, it stunk literally. So, what did Jesus do when his job stank? He cried! Sounds like what we do when our job stinks, too. Sounds like what we do when life stinks!

We think tears are something to be avoided. Johnson’s Baby Shampoo even has a “no more tears” formula. Our culture tells us “real men don’t cry,” and our music tells us that “Big Girls Don’t Cry.” But all of us do cry at some point in our lives. We cry at the graveside of a loved one, or at the loss of a job. We cry with a broken heart when a relationship goes bad, or we cry over a sin that overwhelms us. We cry (or we should) when we hurt someone we love, or when someone we loves hurts. As long as we live in this broken world we will experience tears.

Tears are good for us, though. Tears are a way for the body to release harmful bio-chemicals. Biochemist William Frey found in one study that emotional tears–those formed in distress or grief–contained more toxic byproducts than tears of irritation (think onion peeling). Tears remove toxins from our body that build up courtesy of stress. Tears are like a natural therapy or massage session, but they cost a lot less! Additionally, tears release a natural soporific that acts as a tranquilizer to the body. That’s why we’re often tired after a good cry. Any way you look at it, tears are healthy. And, on this day, we get a good look at the fullness of Jesus’ humanity.

We know why we cry, but why did Jesus cry, especially since we know what he was about to do? One reason is simply the deep compassion that Jesus felt for those who were suffering. It is true that Jesus let Lazarus die. He delayed coming. His reasons were good and merciful and glorious, but this didn’t mean Jesus took the suffering it caused lightly. Even though Jesus always chooses what will ultimately bring his Father the most glory—and sometimes, as in Lazarus’ case, it requires affliction and grief—he does not take delight in the affliction and grief itself. Jesus is sympathetic, and as “the image of the invisible God,” in Jesus at the tomb of Lazarus we catch a glimpse of how the Father feels over the affliction and grief we experience.

Another reason Jesus wept was over the power of sin. As God the Son who had come into the world to destroy evil, Jesus was about to deliver death its deathblow. But sin grieves God deeply and so do the wages of sin: death (Romans 6:23). And ever since the fall of Adam and Eve he had endured sin’s horrific destruction. Death had consumed almost every human being he had created. It had taken Lazarus, and it would take him again before it was all over. Tears of anger and longing were mixed with Jesus’ tears of grief.

Another reason was the cost that he was about to pay to purchase not only Lazarus’ short-term resurrection, but his everlasting life. The cross was just days away and no one really knew the inner distress Jesus was experiencing. Lazarus’ resurrection would look and be experienced by Lazarus and everyone else as a gift of grace. But, it was not free. For as much as we see Jesus humanity in this passage, we also see the fullness of his divinity. As a matter of fact, chapter 11 is the turning point in John’s Gospel in the life of Jesus. From this point, Jesus is headed to Jerusalem to die a horrific death. Jesus, who had never known sin, was about to become Lazarus’ sin, and the sin of all who would believe in him, so that in him they would become the righteousness of God. As the writer of Hebrews says, Jesus was looking to the joy that was set before him, but the reality of what lay between was weighing heavily, and it brought tears.

This might also indicate yet another reason Jesus wept—raising Lazarus from the dead would actually set in motion the events that would lead to his own death. Calling Lazarus out of the tomb would have taken a different kind of resolve for Jesus than we might have imagined. Giving Lazarus life was sealing Jesus’ own death.

As I reflect on this encounter in Jesus’ life, there are a few lessons I learn. First, Jesus is angry at the power of sin in our lives. He’s not angry with us—that would be counter to the gospel of grace. He is, however angry with the power that sin holds over us, and that anger is reflected in the words of our text today.

A second lesson I learn is that Jesus is moved by our tears. He cries when we cry. He hurts when we hurt. He suffers when we suffer, and he does so because it wasn’t supposed to be that way. Sin brings suffering. That’s the result of the fall of humanity. Yes, Jesus still gets charged with not doing something about all the suffering. He got charged with it that day, too. He doesn’t set aside our tragedies or sorrows, but he is with us in the midst of the tragedies and sorrows. He walks with us, and brings us comfort.

A third lesson I learn is that tears don’t last forever. Again, our music reminds us that “It Only Hurts for a Little While.” How many oceans could be filled with the tears shed by humanity through all the centuries? And, we stand at the graveside of a loved one and we ask, “Will it always be this way?” We ask, “Is this all there is?” The writer of Ecclesiastes basically says life is suffering, death and then we’re forgotten. But that’s not what the Bible teaches. The Psalmist reminds us “Weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5), and when that morning comes, “death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore” (Revelation 21:4). After all, it was Jesus, on this same day he wept that he said, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, yet shall they live” (John 11:25).

Jesus asked Martha if she believed that. He asks us, too. Do we believe that?

Until next time, keep looking up…

Questions with No Answers (Four Lessons on Trials)…

Dr. James Dobson wrote a book in 1997 entitled When God Doesn’t Make Sense. The book was written for anyone struggling with trials and heartaches—the death of a loved one, disease, divorce, rejection—in the hopes of understanding the meaning of suffering in the world. He takes the reader through eleven chapters until he reaches his conclusion. It’s the conclusion we’re all looking for when it comes to hardships, trials and heartaches in this life. You know his conclusion? “I don’t know.” Eleven chapters, and he finally gets to point—I don’t know.questions and answers

It’s the same answer I give when I’m asked any of the following questions:

  • Why do we go through trials?
  • Why do we face hardships?
  • Why is there suffering in the world?
  • Why does God allow evil?

With all my theological training, the best answer I can give is, “I don’t know.” There is a verse of scripture that is often quoted when trials come. It’s Romans 8:28: “And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose” (NKJV). Too often, we do with that verse what we do with so many other verses. We take a single verse and form a deep theological answer to a complex issue. Oh, that it were so easy. It leads us to a shaky theology that fails us in times of hardships and difficulties. Scripture is like real estate. In real estate, three things are important: location, location and location. Well, in scripture, three things are important: context, context and context. If we want to understand “all things work together for good,” we have to understand all of what Paul was saying.

If we want to know what Paul meant when he wrote “all things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to His purposes,” we have to understand the verses around it, and we have to understand where it fits in the entirety of the letter he wrote to the Romans. I just would like to know, “Is God working in all this mess of a life of mine?”

The answer, for Paul and for us, is, “Yes.” Paul was no stranger to suffering; his several near-death experiences, beatings, imprisonments, and persecutions were enough to eradicate any “pie-in-the-sky” attitude that might have lurked in his heart. In the immediate context, Paul lists some qualifiers for the good to take place: “we know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose” (Rom 8:28, NET Bible). Paul is not giving this promise to all people, but only to those “who love God, who are called according to his purpose.”

But what does this mean? Those who love God are, in this context, Christians, because they are called according to God’s purpose. We have to be careful to not say, “As long as you love God, things work out; but whenever you are not loving God, things do not work out for your good.” That’s bad theology. No, if we have faith in Christ, then all means all. Immediately after, Paul speaks of our conformity to Christ, our glorification, as the inevitable outcome of those who love God. And that is not dependent on how much we love God but on the finished work of Christ on the cross. Paul concludes this chapter by making explicit that nothing can separate us from the love of God (vv. 38-39), and by implication, that would include even our temporary lapses in our love for the Savior.

What, then, is the good? The good is conformity to Christ! Ultimately, Paul says, all things work together to bring each of us into conformity to Christ, to bring each of us to glory. Not only is Paul talking about all circumstances, but he’s also talking about all those who believe in Christ. Paul does not say “some of those” or even “most of those” when describing each stage of the salvation journey. From calling to glorification, no one who loves God misses the boat.

Great theology, preacher, but I need practicality. How do these trials and hardships work for good? Okay, here are four lessons to remember about trials.

  1. Trials are a short term reality. I love the theology of the unlettered maid who was great in the kitchen and an immaculate housekeeper, but her main strength was that she was never ruffled by anything. She was always calm and in control. When asked about her secret, she quoted a verse in the Bible: “It came to pass.” When told that this was not the complete verse she replied, “It is for me. It means that whatever comes, comes to pass. It doesn’t come to stay.” We may have short-term pain, but it’s working out a long-term gain. It’s like when we’re sick. We go to the doctor because we trust the doctor knows what he/she is doing. The doctor prescribes the treatment, and it’s painful or unpleasant, but it’s necessary for our ultimate healing. We have to endure a little more pain before we’re better. As followers of Jesus Christ, the better for us is God’s glory, and this short-term pain is working toward a long-term gain.
  1. Trials give us proper perspective. If we never had bad experiences, how would we know to appreciate the good experiences? Our problem is we interpret everything from our human, materialistic perspective. The good is not our comfort or wealth, or even our good health. The good is God’s glory. Part of my daily routine is a short devotional called Our Daily Bread. It recently had a neat prayer that read, “Lord, it is easy to let my circumstances change how I understand You. Help me to remember that You are good and faithful, even though I can’t see everything and may not understand how You are working.
  2. Trials keep us forward-focused. We may see nothing good come of misery and disaster in this world, but this world is not all of reality. There is an ‘until’; there is a place beyond the horizon of what our senses can apprehend, and it is more real and more lasting than what we experience in this life. God is using the present, even the miserable present, to conform us to the image of his Son. If we define the good as only what we can see in this life, then we have missed the whole point of this text. For, as Paul said earlier in this same chapter, “For I consider that our present sufferings cannot even be compared to the glory that will be revealed to us” (Rom 8:18, NET). For Western Christians (especially American Christians), we are prone to think if our lives are comfortable, if we have wealth, good health, that is fine and well. But that is not the good that Paul had in mind, and it is not the goal of the Christian life. The famous preacher D.L. Moody told about a Christian woman who was always bright, cheerful, and optimistic, even though she was confined to her room because of illness. She lived in an attic apartment on the fifth floor of an old, rundown building. A friend decided to visit her one day and brought along another woman—a person of great wealth. Since there was no elevator, the two ladies began the long climb upward. When they reached the second floor, the well-to-do woman commented, “What a dark and filthy place!” Her friend replied, “It’s better higher up.” When they arrived at the third landing, the remark was made, “Things look even worse here.” Again the reply, “It’s better higher up.” The two women finally reached the attic level, where they found the bedridden saint of God. A smile on her face radiated the joy that filled her heart. Although the room was clean and flowers were on the window sill, the wealthy visitor could not get over the stark surroundings in which this woman lived. She blurted out, “It must be very difficult for you to be here like this!” Without a moment’s hesitation the shut-in responded, “It’s better higher up.” She was not looking at temporal things. With the eye of faith fixed on the eternal, she had found the secret of true satisfaction and contentment.
  1. Trials help us experience God’s presence. Again, Paul gives us the practical over the theological when he reminds us in 8:26: “And the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don’t know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words.” As long as we trust, there are times we go through circumstances we don’t know how we got through them. We might say a person had a strong will or a strong character, but it was really the Holy Spirit interceding for them when they couldn’t pray, or didn’t know what to pray. And, God’s grace was provided in just the right measure at just the right time to meet the need. The Psalmist proclaimed, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me…” (Psalm 23).

“Well, pastor, you haven’t given me my spiritual ‘happy pill’ this morning.” No, sorry, I haven’t, but Romans 8:28 was never meant to be that—although it has been used as such. “So, give me a little hope, please. After all, I don’t want to be like the young man who went to the fortune-teller. She looked at his palm and said, ‘You’ll be poor and very unhappy until you’re 37 years old’.”

“What’ll happen then,” the young man asked? “Will I be rich and happy?”

“No,” the fortune-teller replied, “you’ll still be poor, but you’ll be used to it by then.”

Where do we find hope in the midst of the pain? Paul answers that, too. Paul closes this most beautiful passage of scripture with these words:

37 No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us.

38 And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. 39 No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.

All our hope is in Jesus Christ. All our life is in Jesus Christ. All our glory is found in trusting Jesus Christ. For Paul, all means all. Theologically, I can’t explain it, but practically, I can face all things because of the One who gave it all for me.

Until next time, keep looking up…