Knowing About/Knowing

 October 7, 2022

In the past when I’ve read through such parts of the Bible as Leviticus, I’ve hurried through just to be able to say I’ve read it, but the details of ritual law have always given me a “deer in the headlights” look. This past Tuesday, I picked up a little book on prayer that is challenging me in ways the author couldn’t have anticipated. By focusing on praise and worship in prayer, even my reading of the Bible has changed. I confess that most of the time when I’ve read Scripture, it has been with the goal of “what can I get out of this,” either for myself, or for sermons. While there is nothing technically wrong with that approach, it misses one important component of Bible study: “What does this teach me about God?” It’s possible to read the Bible and come out with a list of all the things we’re supposed to do or not do. It is even possible to learn about grace and forgiveness, or the theological basis for the Atonement, or any number of other facts.

But it is also possible to learn all this stuff and not encounter the living God. Eta Linnemann was a Bible scholar from the German Higher Criticism School most known by such men as Rudolf Bultmann. This method of Biblical scholarship is prevalent in most universities and seminaries, and essentially denies the supernatural nature of the Bible. Linnemann was no slouch; she was inducted into the world’s most prestigious professional society for the study of Biblical literature. She knew the Bible better than most. But she didn’t know Jesus, and her life was falling apart. She met some simple Christians whose lives were in stark contrast to her own, and through them, she eventually came to repentance and faith in the living Christ, after which she encouraged anyone who possessed any of her previously published scholarly works to burn them.

The purpose of the Bible is to lead us to faith in Christ, but before that can happen, we need to discover who God is and what he is like. The entirety of Scripture is designed to reveal the living and Almighty God to us. 

So as I am reading through Leviticus, I am finding not a cache of dusty, worn-out rules, but a revelation of the holiness of a God who is different than we are, and whose holiness is in contrast to my daily life and which calls out to me to humble myself, repent, and cast myself upon his goodness and grace. Mind you, it’s not a specific text that does so; it’s the tenor of the entire book. So tonight as I pray, it’s not so much to list all the things I want God to do, but to simply listen, and ask, “Lord, what do you want ME to do?”

Forgiveness

 October 6, 2022

“I believe in the forgiveness of sins.” So goes the Apostles’ Creed which we recite every Sunday morning. I like repeating the ancient words of the Creed; they ground me, pulling me away from what I may feel at any given time and reminding me of what I believe. Psalm 103 is like the Creed when it begins, 

“Bless the Lord, O my soul; 

And all that is within me, bless His holy name! 

Bless the Lord, O my soul, 

And forget not all His benefits: 

Who forgives all your iniquities, 

Who heals all your diseases, 

Who redeems your life from destruction, 

Who crowns you with lovingkindness and tender mercies, 

Who satisfies your mouth with good things, 

So that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.”

—Psalm 103:1-5 

David here is speaking to his own soul; his innermost being, reminding him of truths that tend to be forgotten in the rough and tumble of life. The forgiveness of sins is one of those truths that tends to slip away from us. We believe in it generically; I believe in it for you, and hope for it for me, but sometimes I have a hard time wrapping my mind and heart around the truth that God actively and continually and repeatedly forgives my sins. I don’t believe I’m alone in this. The pervasive anxiety that plagues people, the depression, the anger and blaming belies the guilt that underlies much of human life. Because I know myself better than anyone else knows me, I often find it hard to believe in my forgiveness.

But that’s the rub: Failure to believe in my forgiveness is failure to believe in God’s goodness; failure to believe his Word, failure to believe in his faithfulness. If I refuse to believe in my forgiveness, I am accusing God of being a liar, declaring his promise to be untrustworthy, for David says quite clearly, “[Remember] Soul…He forgives all your iniquities.” Not just some. All. If I refuse to believe my sins are forgiven, that unbelief is in itself as sin that separates me from God. Hear the Good News: “God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not imputing their trespasses to them, and has committed to us the word of reconciliation.” (II Corinthians 5:19). In Jesus Christ, ALL our sins are forgiven! All YOUR sins are forgiven! All MY sins are forgiven!

Grocery-List Prayers

 October 5, 2022

I’ve been going to prayer meetings since I was a teenager, some of which have inspired me, and others that have simply left me feeling discouraged and disillusioned. Yesterday, I came across a little book that gives me hope. The author begins by stating his own disappointment with what he calls “traditional request-based,” or “grocery-list” approach to prayer. That up-front admission caught my attention and pulled me on board. 

I can’t remember ever attending a prayer meeting that spent any significant time in praise and worship. In our men’s Bible study group, we often end with prayer requests, but rarely do we invest much time simply in worship and praise. Inevitably, the prayer requests are heavily weighted towards prayers for the sick. Prayers for the salvation of family and friends, for wisdom in decisions, forgiveness for sins, or for church and government leaders take second, third, and fourth place behind health issues.

I’m not complaining about what we choose as the subject of our prayers, but simply am pointing out that we have too often neglected the object of our prayers—God himself. I’ve often spoken of my melancholic tendencies that only worsen when my attention is focused on how I’m feeling. When it seems as if God is distant, focusing on how that makes me feel is self-defeating because the focus is…on myself. If instead, I turn my attention to God, he draws me close. It’s in the Bible: God draws close to the humble-hearted. Focusing on my feelings is prideful, not humble. Doing so says in effect, “I am the most important party in this prayer.” 

The same is true when our focus is on our needs or even the needs of others. Doing so treats God as a puppet; pull the right strings to make him dance. It’s an easy trap to fall into, but it is deadly to the prayer life. Psalm 100 says it well: “Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise.” (V.4) Tonight, I am praising God for his holiness (I’ve been reading about that in Leviticus), and thanking him for his salvation, mercy, and grace.

Shortcuts

 October 4, 2022

There are no shortcuts to holiness. Yesterday, Linda and I watched a video teaching on the 23rd Psalm. The presenter was talking about the phrase, “He leads me in righteousness for his name’s sake,” commenting that the word “leads” actually means to walk in circles. On-site in Israel, he showed hillsides terraced by sheep walking around and around the hill to get to the top. I’ve seen similar paths on hillsides here, terraced by cows walking around them. The presenter said, “The shortest way to the top is dangerous; a sheep can easily lose its footing and fall. Safety is in the long way around.”

This morning in our pastors’ prayer group, Nate spoke of his experience with cancer. The night before he got sick, he was reading Jesus’ words to his disciples at the Last Supper, as recorded by John: “I am going away, but it is best for you, because if I don’t go away, the Comforter cannot come.” 

Nate noted that when he read that, he thought, “This must have been hard for the disciples. They didn’t understand. Jesus’ words were uncomfortable.” The very next day, he got sick and was diagnosed with cancer. “I don’t want cancer. It’s uncomfortable for me. But from the very first day, God gave me incredible peace,” he said. “God has repeatedly told me I’m going to be healed, but I have to go through the process. There are no shortcuts.”

Most of us would prefer the easy way. We like shortcuts. Linda cringes whenever I say I know a shortcut somewhere; I’ve gotten us lost way too many times. Once when in college, my mother visited for some reason. I was driving her home and told her I knew a shortcut. It was late at night, and I was barreling down the road when it suddenly took a sharp (I mean a 90 degree sharp) left turn across a bridge. I screeched to a stop inches away from center punching a concrete bridge abutment. Mom cried the rest of the hour and a half trip home.

Shortcuts may seem nice, but they aren’t God’s way to holiness. The first sin was an attempt to take a shortcut to wisdom; most sins are shortcuts to wealth, happiness, health, that turn out to be traps that imprison us in empty promises. Christians want to be Christ-like, but it cannot happen apart from time spent in the Scriptures and prayer, in worship, fasting, and service. Too often I’ve stood at a graveside, praying for grieving people who desperately want the assurance that their loved one is in heaven, when that person spent a lifetime taking shortcuts. No matter what I say at such times, the assurance isn’t there. The shortcut turned out to be a dead end. 

The words Linda and I heard are not just for the unbelieving; they were for us. The persons we want to be, the family we want to have, the church to which we belong are not attained by taking shortcuts. I am thankful tonight that Jesus refused the shortcuts Satan offered him in the Temptation, and instead chose the long and difficult path to the Cross. His “path of righteousness” has become the way to life for all who believe.

God’s Will

 October 3, 2022

“You are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, His own special people, that you may proclaim the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light;” —I Peter 2:9 

Yesterday in Sunday School, Roy recited a litany of Scriptures he prays every morning as he gets out of bed; verses that help him align his daily life with God’s purposes. Later that day, Linda shared with me a prayer she has been praying every morning, and I got to thinking, “I don’t have a particular prayer or Scripture that serves as a lodestone for my days. Then this morning, in the little devotional Linda and I have used for more than fifty years, this gem of Scripture jumped out at me. It looks like a good place to start.

There are a number of Scriptures that clearly lay out for us God’s will. This is one of them, as indicated by the little word “that.” God’s purpose for me today was that I proclaim his praises. Just a few verses later in 1 Peter, God’s will is stated even more clearly: 

“Therefore submit yourselves to every ordinance of man for the Lord’s sake, whether to the king as supreme, or to governors, as to those who are sent by him for the punishment of evildoers and for the praise of those who do good. For this is the will of God, that by doing good you may put to silence the ignorance of foolish men”

—I Peter 2:13-15

That one can be a bit harder to swallow at times, but there it is, clear as day. Then there are Paul’s words in 1 Thessalonians:

“For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you should abstain from sexual immorality…Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” —I Thessalonians 4:3, 5:16-18

When I was a teenager, I longed to know God’s will for my life. I thought of it in terms of what college to attend, who to marry, what career I was to pursue. No one bothered to tell me that God’s will had more to do with my inner life, with how I conduct myself before God and others than with decisions for which God has given freedom and the wisdom of the Holy Spirit and the counsel of godly people. Today, without hesitation, I know God’s will. It is spelled out for me in Scriptures like those I read this morning. It doesn’t change from day to day, and isn’t subject to interpretation. For that, I am thankful tonight.

The Hardest Thing

 October 2, 2022

“What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do?” We sat for a few moments before anyone dared speak up to answer the question Matt asked in Sunday School this morning. It was tempting to speak of the mess we endured in 2004, but the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do occurred fifty years ago, only I didn’t realize at the time how hard it was.

Nathan was just a few weeks old when Linda and I stood before the little congregation in the Alma church, holding our firstborn as we dedicated him to the Lord. We were raised Baptist and EUB, so infant baptism wasn’t in our spiritual DNA. Instead, in the footsteps of the Biblical people Hannah and Mary, we dedicated him to God, recognizing that ultimately he wasn’t ours, but His, lent to us for awhile to love, nurture, and train in the faith. 

Unless their child is born with life-threatening issues, I don’t suppose many young parents fully understand the fragility of the little life they hold in their arms and hearts. I know we didn’t. But since Nate was diagnosed with brain and lung tumors last April, I’ve thought of that dedication those many years ago, and the seriousness of the commitment we made. We now have to decide if we are people of our word; now that reality has closed in upon us, are we still willing to make that commitment that we made those years ago? It didn’t seem so hard back then because it was only theoretical. It no longer is, and Matt’s question burns deep into my soul. The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, I did fifty years ago, It didn’t seem hard back then; it surely is now. “Recognizing that he is not yours, but God’s, given to you for awhile to love and nurture, do you dedicate him to Christ and his service?” We did, and we do, even now.

Climb Aboard

October 1, 2022

St. Paul in his letter to the Roman Christians says “I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God unto salvation to all who believe, to the Jew first, and also to the Greek.” (1:16)

I’ve often wondered about “the power of the Gospel.” Even a cursory glance around us, and it doesn’t seem as if the Gospel is all that powerful. Evil people stride through the world with impunity, sickness and disease are everywhere, the Church is divided and often heretical and apostate. Noted Christian leaders rise to stardom and fall to sexual and/or financial sin, and if we are honest, none of us are without those secrets we hope nobody ever finds out. So where is the power of the Gospel, and why does it seem so powerless?

Paul gives us the answer here: it is to all who believe. The world doesn’t believe. In fact, people deliberately choose unbelief. It is disguised beneath a veneer of religiosity, but few actually believe enough to commit themselves in any meaningful way. At a memorial service recently, I  told the story of Henri Blondin, the tightrope artist who lived around the turn of the last century. We remember the Great Wallenda, who a few years ago walked a cable strung across the Niagara gorge, but Blondin did it first. He walked from one side to the other, and back again. He then asked the crowd if they believed he could push a wheelbarrow from one side to the other. They cheered enthusiastically, and off he went. He asked the crowd on the other side if they believed he could wheel a man in the wheelbarrow. Again they cheered. 

“Who’ll volunteer to get in?” Blondin asked. The crowd fell silent. He had exposed the difference between real faith and casual assent. People don’t experience the power of God because they don’t believe with a conviction that makes them climb into the wheelbarrow. 

In my own life, I can attest that every time I’ve failed, every time I’ve sinned, it’s because I didn’t believe Jesus could save me from that particular temptation or trial. But when I believed enough to ignore all the feelings, every weakness and every temptation to take a shortcut; when I climbed into the wheelbarrow, every single time, the Gospel of Jesus Christ was powerful enough to save me. And it is powerful enough to save you, too, but you need to stop cheering and climb into the wheelbarrow.