I don't know if regular angels--other than cherubim and seraphim--have wings, but I know God does. I have a lot to say about the time I've spent sitting on the rock on the beach surrounded by fog, but right now I need to talk about God's wings. I spent a lot of time in the night last night with them.
Physical pain is a big part of the cancer journey and just because I might be through with chemotherapy and three weeks past surgery doesn't mean the pain is gone. The nerve damage to my right hand and my feet won't go away for probably a year. And I'm having some minor issues with the surgery site. Last night it kept me awake.
Emotional pain is also a constant companion. Grief over what is lost and over the continuing suffering sometimes overwhelms me. Sadness that I can't pick up my grandson and hug him to me is almost physical. Knowing I will be able to soon is no consolation for now.
So in the middle of my suffering, I cried out to Jesus. Sweet Jesus. I've discovered that the length of our prayers is directly correlated to the depth of our suffering. All I could manage was to say the Name. After a while I could cry, "God help me!" In the middle of my sobbing, He came. He hovered over me with His wings and He lifted me up so I could enter His sanctuary.
In the book of Exodus, when Moses decribes the directions for making the tabernacle's Holy place behind the veil, he tells us the pattern of wings was woven into the inner ceiling fabric. God's wings covered the place where He would dwell.
The Psalmist says in 63:6-7,"When I remember Thee in the night watches, For Thou hast been my help, And in the shadow of Thy wings I sing for joy." I remembered God in the night and called out to Him. He was my help. I was able to spend time thanking Him for hovering over me. And that was when He usered me into His sanctuary. He spoke comfort to me and I worshipped Him.
Jesus said in Matthew 23:37 that He wanted to gather the children of Jerusalem together as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings. That's because He has wings. He longs to gather us up under them and carry us into His sanctuary. But they were not willing. We have to be willing. If we're not, He'll leave us where we are.
The Psalmist also says in 73:17 that he was troubled about things the way he understood them until he entered the sanctuary of God. Then He got God's perspective and he saw the truth. I was able to get God's perspective last night. I need to go through this suffering right now. I don't know why, I just know I do. And I'll glorify God along the way.
My original thought was that I would glorify God with a loud voice when it was all over and I was cured, like the leper Jesus healed who came back to say thank you. But healing may be a long way off--or at least the feeling of being healed. The cancer has been removed, so technically I guess healing has occurred. I learned I need to, and can, glorify God in the middle of my suffering. It is in the praise that real healing comes--on the wings of God.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Shattered Ruby Glass
My heart shattered into millions of pieces this week. Spring rains had been the heaviest on record, raising the water table level. A subterranean well flooded in the night, spewing geysers of water against the fragile dam. It was built of ruby red crystal and couldn't stand against the onslaught. Rather than developing a crack that widened, it exploded into ruby shards.
I was caught in the swirling waters, slung into the river's chasm, and thought I would drown. The whitewater rapids yanked me under until the very last second, when I surfaced for a gulp of air before being shoved under again and dragged down the river. Over and over again, I'd find a breath, then submerge again. Each time I'd come up above the waves, I'd search downstream for the end of the rapids, but only after I gave up on it did I enter a calmer stretch. As I did, Jesus waded in alongside me and strapped on the lifejacket of grace. He arranged the back part to cradle my head above the water, then put on his own lifejacket and took my hand. He floated with me into a quiet eddy. I could see slivers of ruby glass settling to the bottom as they washed along.
In that safe place, I cried into Bo's shoulder and said, "I feel like somebody died. Somebody I loved a lot."
We must have floated all night, but I'm not sure because I fell asleep. I woke on the shore in dry clothes. I could tell the sun was fully up because of the golden glow all around, but whatever the view, it was obscured by a fog curtain. I could make out the basic structure of the landscape--large, mature trees and boulders--but that's all. I didn't know what to do, so I sat on a rock with a smooth place on top. I propped my chin in my hand and thought about what had happened.
Somebody had died. It was the old Kathy and the old "normal." She was familiar and comfortable, but she was gone now. I realized in the morning light that grieving over her loss was a lot like crying when your 100-year old Christian mother dies. You know she's gone to heaven and that she's whole and well, maybe for the first time in years, and that you're happy for her. But you miss the familiar. You miss her companionship, even her physical presence. So you cry.
The old Kathy was a companion I loved. She was familiar and I had grown used to having her around. I don't know the new Kathy yet. The fog hasn't lifted and I can't really find her. I'm sure I'll like her, but she'll take some getting used to.
The last thing I remember about that monrning on the shore is glancing over toward the water's edge. Littered all along the beach were pieces of shattered ruby glass.
I was caught in the swirling waters, slung into the river's chasm, and thought I would drown. The whitewater rapids yanked me under until the very last second, when I surfaced for a gulp of air before being shoved under again and dragged down the river. Over and over again, I'd find a breath, then submerge again. Each time I'd come up above the waves, I'd search downstream for the end of the rapids, but only after I gave up on it did I enter a calmer stretch. As I did, Jesus waded in alongside me and strapped on the lifejacket of grace. He arranged the back part to cradle my head above the water, then put on his own lifejacket and took my hand. He floated with me into a quiet eddy. I could see slivers of ruby glass settling to the bottom as they washed along.
In that safe place, I cried into Bo's shoulder and said, "I feel like somebody died. Somebody I loved a lot."
We must have floated all night, but I'm not sure because I fell asleep. I woke on the shore in dry clothes. I could tell the sun was fully up because of the golden glow all around, but whatever the view, it was obscured by a fog curtain. I could make out the basic structure of the landscape--large, mature trees and boulders--but that's all. I didn't know what to do, so I sat on a rock with a smooth place on top. I propped my chin in my hand and thought about what had happened.
Somebody had died. It was the old Kathy and the old "normal." She was familiar and comfortable, but she was gone now. I realized in the morning light that grieving over her loss was a lot like crying when your 100-year old Christian mother dies. You know she's gone to heaven and that she's whole and well, maybe for the first time in years, and that you're happy for her. But you miss the familiar. You miss her companionship, even her physical presence. So you cry.
The old Kathy was a companion I loved. She was familiar and I had grown used to having her around. I don't know the new Kathy yet. The fog hasn't lifted and I can't really find her. I'm sure I'll like her, but she'll take some getting used to.
The last thing I remember about that monrning on the shore is glancing over toward the water's edge. Littered all along the beach were pieces of shattered ruby glass.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Burned Up Prayers
One night last week I had a weepy crisis moment feeling damaged, broken, and ugly. The next morning, my Bible reading took me to Ex. 29. This is where the Lord began His earnest work on me.
Actually, we need to begin with Exodus 28 and the role of the priest. He bore the names of the tribes on his shoulders before God. But he also wore them over his heart. He carried them before the Lord. He carried the judgment in the ephod. He bore the judgment of the people as we would "bear a burden" for someone in prayer, but in a deeper sense. It was almost as Jesus bore our judgment on the cross. The priest wore a sign that said, "Holy to the Lord" on his turban. He bore the iniquity of the holy things of Israel. He was their intercessor for holiness and it all came back to him. The buck stopped there. He was responsible for the people.
I have taken my freedom as a priest in Christ much too lightly. It is a grave, life-or-death responsibility. Not just for me, but for those on whose behalf I intercede. It was Aaron's life-time calling and must be mine.
It was also a thing of beauty to behold and a delight to hear. Aaron wore a beautiful robe with tinkling golden bells on its hem. I want my life to be beautiful and sound delightful--like tinkling golden bells to the ears of God.
How can that happen? What needs to happen in my life? I read chapter 28 the morning preceding my crisis night. The next morning brought me to chapter 29.
The anointing of the priests involved sprinkling blood on them and their beautiful robes. Every time they put them on, the blood stains reminded them of the holiness of God. Then the altar was anointed and every offering was burned as a sweet aroma to the Lord. A morning burnt sacrifice and an evening burnt sacrifice. My prayers are that sacrifice. But have they ever been burned up before? Have I ever gone through a fire hot enough to burn up my prayers? No, and that is the part of the "refiner's fire" I missed.
In our "Christianese" language, we talk about "dying to self" and all, but I wonder, are we willing not merely to die, but to be consumed by fire for God's enjoyment? The sacrifice on the altar of the tabernacle was killed, quite dead. But that wasn't the end. It was then burned up. Consumed by the fire of God for His pleasure. This was what produced the sweet aroma to the Lord. I have never been to the place where I was willing to be consumed before.
The altar area of the courtyard was a place of death. A dead, burned carcass is an ugly sight. The only beauty was found in the stunning attire of the priests--blue, purple, scarlet, precious stones and gold, tinkling bells. All spattered with blood stains from the anointing ceremony.
What has to be burned up? All physical traces of the sacrifice. The only things I have to offer, the things I've held as precious, are really dead carcasses. Only as I allow God to burn them up do they gain any value--that sweet aroma. Every physical thing that brings me pleasure must be presented on the altar. All my physical attributes that I prided myself on, my good figure, my healthy, fabulous hair, will be taken from me. I never thought I had a pretty face, but that's all that will be left. Every physical comfort is being destroyed by chemotherapy. My body will die from the inside out. I will become the priest and the sacrifice and my prayers will ascend through fire almost literally. At this point, there is no beauty except what God makes of it. The only beauty I'll have will come from my priestly robe. The gorgeous, blood stained robe that signifies who I really am.
If I don't put on that robe, there will be nothing but ashes left of me. My only choice, my only desire now, is to wear that robe. To be found covered in blood stains and offered up as a sweet aroma before my Lord. Consumed for His glory.
How will I live that out every day? What will it look like? I have no idea. I have no further plans of my own.
Before I started chemotherapy I was terrified of it. If I think about the science of the process too long even now it sort of freaks me out. But I was so gripped in the four days I had between being told I would have it and the first treatment by fear and terror that it was hard to think of anything else. The dream I had of walking toward hell certainly opened my eyes to the suffering Jesus went through--especially as the time drew nearer for Him to go to the cross and then into hell to conquer it.
But the truth behind it escaped me even then. Ever since God created people, He has been consumed by us. Everything He has ever done has been geared to our redemption. Every plan, every action, everything He even thinks about is for our good. I've always known the Bible teaches that God loves us, loved us first, and that's why we love Him--because He first loved us.
But the reality of God being consumed by us really escaped me until now. When I realized I was willing to be consumed by God simply for His pleasure, I still didn't understand what a small thing that really is. After all, Jesus was consumed for me. And thoughts of me consume His time now. How else could He "ever live to intercede for us?"
So it must play out like this--I will ask myself every day, "Are my thoughts consumed by Jesus? Are all my words and actions consumed in praise and glory of Him?" If the answer isn't yes, I'm still just a dead carcass.
Actually, we need to begin with Exodus 28 and the role of the priest. He bore the names of the tribes on his shoulders before God. But he also wore them over his heart. He carried them before the Lord. He carried the judgment in the ephod. He bore the judgment of the people as we would "bear a burden" for someone in prayer, but in a deeper sense. It was almost as Jesus bore our judgment on the cross. The priest wore a sign that said, "Holy to the Lord" on his turban. He bore the iniquity of the holy things of Israel. He was their intercessor for holiness and it all came back to him. The buck stopped there. He was responsible for the people.
I have taken my freedom as a priest in Christ much too lightly. It is a grave, life-or-death responsibility. Not just for me, but for those on whose behalf I intercede. It was Aaron's life-time calling and must be mine.
It was also a thing of beauty to behold and a delight to hear. Aaron wore a beautiful robe with tinkling golden bells on its hem. I want my life to be beautiful and sound delightful--like tinkling golden bells to the ears of God.
How can that happen? What needs to happen in my life? I read chapter 28 the morning preceding my crisis night. The next morning brought me to chapter 29.
The anointing of the priests involved sprinkling blood on them and their beautiful robes. Every time they put them on, the blood stains reminded them of the holiness of God. Then the altar was anointed and every offering was burned as a sweet aroma to the Lord. A morning burnt sacrifice and an evening burnt sacrifice. My prayers are that sacrifice. But have they ever been burned up before? Have I ever gone through a fire hot enough to burn up my prayers? No, and that is the part of the "refiner's fire" I missed.
In our "Christianese" language, we talk about "dying to self" and all, but I wonder, are we willing not merely to die, but to be consumed by fire for God's enjoyment? The sacrifice on the altar of the tabernacle was killed, quite dead. But that wasn't the end. It was then burned up. Consumed by the fire of God for His pleasure. This was what produced the sweet aroma to the Lord. I have never been to the place where I was willing to be consumed before.
The altar area of the courtyard was a place of death. A dead, burned carcass is an ugly sight. The only beauty was found in the stunning attire of the priests--blue, purple, scarlet, precious stones and gold, tinkling bells. All spattered with blood stains from the anointing ceremony.
What has to be burned up? All physical traces of the sacrifice. The only things I have to offer, the things I've held as precious, are really dead carcasses. Only as I allow God to burn them up do they gain any value--that sweet aroma. Every physical thing that brings me pleasure must be presented on the altar. All my physical attributes that I prided myself on, my good figure, my healthy, fabulous hair, will be taken from me. I never thought I had a pretty face, but that's all that will be left. Every physical comfort is being destroyed by chemotherapy. My body will die from the inside out. I will become the priest and the sacrifice and my prayers will ascend through fire almost literally. At this point, there is no beauty except what God makes of it. The only beauty I'll have will come from my priestly robe. The gorgeous, blood stained robe that signifies who I really am.
If I don't put on that robe, there will be nothing but ashes left of me. My only choice, my only desire now, is to wear that robe. To be found covered in blood stains and offered up as a sweet aroma before my Lord. Consumed for His glory.
How will I live that out every day? What will it look like? I have no idea. I have no further plans of my own.
Before I started chemotherapy I was terrified of it. If I think about the science of the process too long even now it sort of freaks me out. But I was so gripped in the four days I had between being told I would have it and the first treatment by fear and terror that it was hard to think of anything else. The dream I had of walking toward hell certainly opened my eyes to the suffering Jesus went through--especially as the time drew nearer for Him to go to the cross and then into hell to conquer it.
But the truth behind it escaped me even then. Ever since God created people, He has been consumed by us. Everything He has ever done has been geared to our redemption. Every plan, every action, everything He even thinks about is for our good. I've always known the Bible teaches that God loves us, loved us first, and that's why we love Him--because He first loved us.
But the reality of God being consumed by us really escaped me until now. When I realized I was willing to be consumed by God simply for His pleasure, I still didn't understand what a small thing that really is. After all, Jesus was consumed for me. And thoughts of me consume His time now. How else could He "ever live to intercede for us?"
So it must play out like this--I will ask myself every day, "Are my thoughts consumed by Jesus? Are all my words and actions consumed in praise and glory of Him?" If the answer isn't yes, I'm still just a dead carcass.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Sunday's lesson came from 1 Corinthians 5:6-13. In these verses Paul gives the reason for his instructions in verses 1-5 not to allow an unrepentant sinning church member to remain in the fellowship. He compares sin to the yeast in bread dough. The characteristic of yeast is that it grows and becomes part of all the dough, even though there are just a few grains of it added to the batch. Sin is like that. It will infect everyone around it and spread.
Paul says Christians are unleavened. That is, at salvation, our sin was forgiven, covered by Jesus' blood, cast as far as the east is from the west. We need to stay that way by remaining clean and "confessed up." Sin in our midst carries the danger of getting into us, too.
He also says Jesus is our Passover. Whenever we see the word "passover" in Scripture, we should think of freedom from bondage because that's what the Passover event was all about. Jesus provided freedom from the bondage of sin when He died on the cross for us and rose again on the third day. That is what we celebrate each time we meet with other Christians at our local church
Allowing, and even boasting of, unrepentant sin in our fellowship makes a mockery of Jesus' sacrifice for us.
In contrast, Paul also says that as Church members, we ought to mingle with the lost people of our community in order to reach them for Christ. How very often do we get this principle backward, just like the Corinthians. We avoid the "heathen" in our communities like the plague while turning a blind eye to--or even worse, condoning--sin within our fellowships instead of ministering to and loving on the "heathen" while avoiding sin within our fellowships.
As I've thought over these truths, I've considered purity. For years I've sung the song Refiner's Fire: Purify my heart, make me be like gold, pure gold. Refiner's fire, my heart's one desire is to be holy, set apart for You Lord, I choose to be holy, set apart for You, my Master, ready to do Your will.
I've had some difficult times in my life. The years surrounding the births of my children were physically harrowing, I've lost loved ones, suffered through broken relationships within my family (parents and in-laws), and been oppressed by Satan in my spiritual life. But I really had no idea what the Refiner's Fire was all about until now.
Last week I read Exodus 23. This chapter lays out law examples. These are pictures for the people to see and follow. The teaching plainly allows for accidents, but holds willfull misconduct up for severe punishment. This is because of the need to preserve holiness in view of their Holy God. How far we have slid since then in our view of the holiness of God. I think we become numb to the sin and excess around us in our society and then get dragged down into it ourselves.
I also read Psalm 26. This psalm is a prayer for purity and redemption. This is my prayer. "Look into my heart, O God, and see what is there. All of it. Then purify all of it."
"Be merciful to me O Lord, my foot stands in an even place. In the congregations I will bless the Lord." -v.11,12.
No matter what happens to me with this cancer, or how I feel on any given day, my foot stands in an even place. The Lord looks out for me. He sees me covered in Jesus' blood and He has redeemed me. How can I do anything but praise His name?
God is holy. He has all things under His control, and Ineed to live a pure life that He can use 100% to bring about His plans. I don't want to get in the way.
Use me Lord!
Paul says Christians are unleavened. That is, at salvation, our sin was forgiven, covered by Jesus' blood, cast as far as the east is from the west. We need to stay that way by remaining clean and "confessed up." Sin in our midst carries the danger of getting into us, too.
He also says Jesus is our Passover. Whenever we see the word "passover" in Scripture, we should think of freedom from bondage because that's what the Passover event was all about. Jesus provided freedom from the bondage of sin when He died on the cross for us and rose again on the third day. That is what we celebrate each time we meet with other Christians at our local church
Allowing, and even boasting of, unrepentant sin in our fellowship makes a mockery of Jesus' sacrifice for us.
In contrast, Paul also says that as Church members, we ought to mingle with the lost people of our community in order to reach them for Christ. How very often do we get this principle backward, just like the Corinthians. We avoid the "heathen" in our communities like the plague while turning a blind eye to--or even worse, condoning--sin within our fellowships instead of ministering to and loving on the "heathen" while avoiding sin within our fellowships.
As I've thought over these truths, I've considered purity. For years I've sung the song Refiner's Fire: Purify my heart, make me be like gold, pure gold. Refiner's fire, my heart's one desire is to be holy, set apart for You Lord, I choose to be holy, set apart for You, my Master, ready to do Your will.
I've had some difficult times in my life. The years surrounding the births of my children were physically harrowing, I've lost loved ones, suffered through broken relationships within my family (parents and in-laws), and been oppressed by Satan in my spiritual life. But I really had no idea what the Refiner's Fire was all about until now.
Last week I read Exodus 23. This chapter lays out law examples. These are pictures for the people to see and follow. The teaching plainly allows for accidents, but holds willfull misconduct up for severe punishment. This is because of the need to preserve holiness in view of their Holy God. How far we have slid since then in our view of the holiness of God. I think we become numb to the sin and excess around us in our society and then get dragged down into it ourselves.
I also read Psalm 26. This psalm is a prayer for purity and redemption. This is my prayer. "Look into my heart, O God, and see what is there. All of it. Then purify all of it."
"Be merciful to me O Lord, my foot stands in an even place. In the congregations I will bless the Lord." -v.11,12.
No matter what happens to me with this cancer, or how I feel on any given day, my foot stands in an even place. The Lord looks out for me. He sees me covered in Jesus' blood and He has redeemed me. How can I do anything but praise His name?
God is holy. He has all things under His control, and Ineed to live a pure life that He can use 100% to bring about His plans. I don't want to get in the way.
Use me Lord!
Saturday, March 26, 2011
I have realized the reason the airplane floor gave way under my seat was because an in-coming missile blew it open. The thing about that missile is the plane's pilot had to give permission for it to hit right there.
I know God allowed Satan to afflict me with cancer. Nothing happens to His children that doesn't pass through His permission. The comforting thing is that I also know He prayed for me before this happened and continues to pray me through. In Luke 22:31-34, Jesus told Peter that he would deny Jesus. It is what Jesus told Peter in verses 31 and 32 that really spoke to me. He said Satan had asked to sift Peter like wheat but that Jesus had prayed for Peter already. Hebrews 7:25 came to mind as I read in Luke. It says that the purpose of Jesus' resurrected life is to pray continually for us.
So, no matter what I go through, Jesus already knew it was coming, allowed it, has prayed for me, and will pray me through.
Because of the chemotherapy, I imagine my tumor is screaming like the Wicked Witch of the West as she died, "I'm shrinking, I'm shrinking!" And of course, we know Who is really making it shrink.
I know God allowed Satan to afflict me with cancer. Nothing happens to His children that doesn't pass through His permission. The comforting thing is that I also know He prayed for me before this happened and continues to pray me through. In Luke 22:31-34, Jesus told Peter that he would deny Jesus. It is what Jesus told Peter in verses 31 and 32 that really spoke to me. He said Satan had asked to sift Peter like wheat but that Jesus had prayed for Peter already. Hebrews 7:25 came to mind as I read in Luke. It says that the purpose of Jesus' resurrected life is to pray continually for us.
So, no matter what I go through, Jesus already knew it was coming, allowed it, has prayed for me, and will pray me through.
Because of the chemotherapy, I imagine my tumor is screaming like the Wicked Witch of the West as she died, "I'm shrinking, I'm shrinking!" And of course, we know Who is really making it shrink.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Sunday's lesson out of chapter 5 was very hard to teach. Church discipline is a serious subject that isn't all warm and fuzzy. I want to be sure that you know how very much I love you all and our church. It is such a blessing to be part of this local group of Christians.
Thank you for all your prayers. I will keep teaching as long as my strength holds up. I want to be able to take space here to share what God is doing in my life through my affliction with cancer. I guess I should start at the beginning.
I was flying pretty high before the diagnosis. I loved my life and could honestly say I enjoyed everything about it. I knew it was a gift from God and thanked Him for allowing it to be like that. Of course it hadn't always been that way, but it was at the time. My days started with prayer and Bible study, then writing, then working my Premier business. Yes, I was out every single evening of the week doing something, but it was all what I loved. The airplane was almost on autopilot.
I knew I was flying with others and that some of them would jump out of the plane occassionally. Now I don't like the idea of parashooting out of a flying airplane at all. It scares me spitless. I never wanted to do it and really thought that if I ever was forced to jump I might have a heart attack on the way down. So while flying through my life and knowing some of my co-passengers would have to jump, I pretended I never would.
The day I was diagnosed with cancer, the floor under my airplane seat gave way and I was air-dropped into a foreign country. My parachute opened and I landed without too much injury, but I couldn't speak the language, didn't know where the major landmarks were, and had about three road maps that all looked different. The "You Are Here" arrow was even missing.
To top it all off, when I finally learned enough of the language and got a single road map, I realized I had to jump off a cliff to get anywhere at all.
The foreign country is a place called Cancer and the cliff jump was into chemotherapy. I'm there now, I guess in mid-air of the jump. The parachute for this jump has had a few holes to patch, but it's holding up. I'm aiming for the target of tumor shrink. Please pray that God will guide me to that landing spot.
The coolest part of this whole thing is what God is teaching me along the way. I'm not sleeping much at night and that's when He is showing me what I was too busy to learn in the day. I hope to share that part with you here over the coming weeks.
Thank you for all your prayers. I will keep teaching as long as my strength holds up. I want to be able to take space here to share what God is doing in my life through my affliction with cancer. I guess I should start at the beginning.
I was flying pretty high before the diagnosis. I loved my life and could honestly say I enjoyed everything about it. I knew it was a gift from God and thanked Him for allowing it to be like that. Of course it hadn't always been that way, but it was at the time. My days started with prayer and Bible study, then writing, then working my Premier business. Yes, I was out every single evening of the week doing something, but it was all what I loved. The airplane was almost on autopilot.
I knew I was flying with others and that some of them would jump out of the plane occassionally. Now I don't like the idea of parashooting out of a flying airplane at all. It scares me spitless. I never wanted to do it and really thought that if I ever was forced to jump I might have a heart attack on the way down. So while flying through my life and knowing some of my co-passengers would have to jump, I pretended I never would.
The day I was diagnosed with cancer, the floor under my airplane seat gave way and I was air-dropped into a foreign country. My parachute opened and I landed without too much injury, but I couldn't speak the language, didn't know where the major landmarks were, and had about three road maps that all looked different. The "You Are Here" arrow was even missing.
To top it all off, when I finally learned enough of the language and got a single road map, I realized I had to jump off a cliff to get anywhere at all.
The foreign country is a place called Cancer and the cliff jump was into chemotherapy. I'm there now, I guess in mid-air of the jump. The parachute for this jump has had a few holes to patch, but it's holding up. I'm aiming for the target of tumor shrink. Please pray that God will guide me to that landing spot.
The coolest part of this whole thing is what God is teaching me along the way. I'm not sleeping much at night and that's when He is showing me what I was too busy to learn in the day. I hope to share that part with you here over the coming weeks.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Paul opens chapter 2 by telling once more how he didn't speak with flowery, eloquent words for a reason. That style just didn't square with the message of the cross. That message is of humiliation and obedience. It is also about more than justification, or being made right with God.
In verse 6 he says that mature believers can be taught the mystery of God. Back in verse 1 he called it God's testimony. We often think of people having a "testimony" but not God. What would His testimony be? His secret. His mystery--that is,that Jesus came for everyone, not just Jews, and that He came to give us as believers the Holy Spirit.
What is the Holy Spirit? The mind of Christ. The mystery is that we can receive the mind of Christ at the point of our justification to help us in the process of sanctification. Real spiritual maturity involves allowing the Holy Spirit to teach us the things of God. That's how Paul learned them and we should learn the same way.
This is where the Corinthian church had stumbled. In chapter 3:1-4 Paul tells them that he can't speak to them as mature, spiritual Christians, because they've misunderstood the message of sanctification through the Spirit. In fact, they may have rejected it outright. They were still worldly. They harbored sin in their lives and that halted the freedom of the Holy Spirit to work in them. This, Paul asserts in verse 4, is the real reason for their disagreements and arguments over leadership.
Let's do a little self-evaluation here. Do we fuss and argue with other Christians? Do we live our lives just like "those who are perishing" around us? Is there envy and strife among us? Do we claim loyalty to certain leaders to the exclusion of others? Do we criticize the leadership in our own church?
If so, there can be only one reason. Spiritual immaturity brought on by hampering the work of the Holy Spirit. In a word: sin.
Let's get rid of our pride and selfishness and allow the Holy Spirit to fill us up so completely that He pushes out all the garbage in our lives. Let's repent and ask Him to take control. Then, when we are truly obedient, watch Him work. It will be fabulous!
In verse 6 he says that mature believers can be taught the mystery of God. Back in verse 1 he called it God's testimony. We often think of people having a "testimony" but not God. What would His testimony be? His secret. His mystery--that is,that Jesus came for everyone, not just Jews, and that He came to give us as believers the Holy Spirit.
What is the Holy Spirit? The mind of Christ. The mystery is that we can receive the mind of Christ at the point of our justification to help us in the process of sanctification. Real spiritual maturity involves allowing the Holy Spirit to teach us the things of God. That's how Paul learned them and we should learn the same way.
This is where the Corinthian church had stumbled. In chapter 3:1-4 Paul tells them that he can't speak to them as mature, spiritual Christians, because they've misunderstood the message of sanctification through the Spirit. In fact, they may have rejected it outright. They were still worldly. They harbored sin in their lives and that halted the freedom of the Holy Spirit to work in them. This, Paul asserts in verse 4, is the real reason for their disagreements and arguments over leadership.
Let's do a little self-evaluation here. Do we fuss and argue with other Christians? Do we live our lives just like "those who are perishing" around us? Is there envy and strife among us? Do we claim loyalty to certain leaders to the exclusion of others? Do we criticize the leadership in our own church?
If so, there can be only one reason. Spiritual immaturity brought on by hampering the work of the Holy Spirit. In a word: sin.
Let's get rid of our pride and selfishness and allow the Holy Spirit to fill us up so completely that He pushes out all the garbage in our lives. Let's repent and ask Him to take control. Then, when we are truly obedient, watch Him work. It will be fabulous!
Thursday, February 10, 2011
The people in the church at Corinth were all wrapped up in themselves. How much they knew, and which leaders had taught them what they knew, were important to them. They got so focused on themselves that they forgot, or at least thought less about, the message of the cross. Paul tells them in 1:1-17 to stop arguing over who is the best leader or the best speaker. Then in 1:18-31 he tells them why. The focus shouldn't be on the messenger and his fancy words or eloquence, but on the message. Paul explains the message simply in verse 18. It is all and only about the cross.
Sunday I was completely broken during the praise service over the message of the cross. Every song we sang was about what Jesus did for us and our commitment to follow Him no matter the cost. My emotions poured over as I sat convicted and then moved to commit my whole life--every part--to the message of the cross. Then when I started the Bible study time, I cried all over again. My own life and all the things I think are so important faded into the background and Jesus lifted up was all I saw. Jesus literally lifted up on the cross. At that point, that despised, cursed, point, He was glorified and exalted. The depth God went to for my rescue from the penalty of sin is beyond my understanding. But one day it will bring me into the glorious presence of God.
Verse 18 also tells us there are only two kinds of people. Those who are perishing and those who are being saved. Both are in the present tense. Those who are perishing are literally in a current state of decay that will lead to their destruction. Those who are being saved have been justified once by Jesus' death on the cross and are in the process of sanctification--being set apart for exclusive use by God--and will one day not be destroyed, but glorified.
I'm in that second group and I really hope you are too. If you have any doubt, please contact me or leave a comment and I'll respond.
Of course, the intellectuals of that day had, and those of this day have, trouble understanding how the message of the cross is true greatness. They would say that money, fame, and power equal greatness. But the cross tells us that self-renunciation and full obedience to God are the marks of greatness.
Sunday I was completely broken during the praise service over the message of the cross. Every song we sang was about what Jesus did for us and our commitment to follow Him no matter the cost. My emotions poured over as I sat convicted and then moved to commit my whole life--every part--to the message of the cross. Then when I started the Bible study time, I cried all over again. My own life and all the things I think are so important faded into the background and Jesus lifted up was all I saw. Jesus literally lifted up on the cross. At that point, that despised, cursed, point, He was glorified and exalted. The depth God went to for my rescue from the penalty of sin is beyond my understanding. But one day it will bring me into the glorious presence of God.
Verse 18 also tells us there are only two kinds of people. Those who are perishing and those who are being saved. Both are in the present tense. Those who are perishing are literally in a current state of decay that will lead to their destruction. Those who are being saved have been justified once by Jesus' death on the cross and are in the process of sanctification--being set apart for exclusive use by God--and will one day not be destroyed, but glorified.
I'm in that second group and I really hope you are too. If you have any doubt, please contact me or leave a comment and I'll respond.
Of course, the intellectuals of that day had, and those of this day have, trouble understanding how the message of the cross is true greatness. They would say that money, fame, and power equal greatness. But the cross tells us that self-renunciation and full obedience to God are the marks of greatness.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Introduction to 1 Corinthians
This coming Sunday we will find out who wrote the book, when it was written and why. We will also cover the first 17 verses of chapter one. These verses set up the themes written about in the book.
Sunday we covered Exodus 35 and 36:1-7. This is the account of Moses giving God's instructions to the people from God for building the tabernacle. It was refreshing to read about the people willingly bringing offerings day after day until they had to be stopped.
What a natural outpouring. When we have returned to the Lord after repenting of sin and fall before Him in worship, the thing we want to do is offer Him whatever we have. Interestingly, work was involved. They brought the materials and worked to make them into the items God ordained. I think we often fail to understand that what we do for God with our resources (that He gave us--remember where the people got what they had!) is real work. It is not always enjoyable and is sometimes tedious. Just because it's not fun doesn't mean it's not worth doing.
What was built as a result of their giving? A place of worship. Giving always leads to worship. It's a cycle that never ends and keeps on giving back to us.
The following chapters detail the work and chapter 40 ends the book by telling us that God inhabited the tabernacle with His glory.
What a natural outpouring. When we have returned to the Lord after repenting of sin and fall before Him in worship, the thing we want to do is offer Him whatever we have. Interestingly, work was involved. They brought the materials and worked to make them into the items God ordained. I think we often fail to understand that what we do for God with our resources (that He gave us--remember where the people got what they had!) is real work. It is not always enjoyable and is sometimes tedious. Just because it's not fun doesn't mean it's not worth doing.
What was built as a result of their giving? A place of worship. Giving always leads to worship. It's a cycle that never ends and keeps on giving back to us.
The following chapters detail the work and chapter 40 ends the book by telling us that God inhabited the tabernacle with His glory.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
The last couple of weeks in Exodus we have read about the historic failure of the Israelite people when they asked Aaron to make them a visible god and then worshipped it with pagan activities. Moses was so angry over it that he broke the stones with the 10 Commandments on them. God was so angry that He tried to assign ownership of the people to Moses instead of Himself. Actually, this was a protection of the people because God said if He went with the people He might destroy them. So what might seem like a capricious attitude on God's part is actually not. He always kept their best interest in mind.
But there were dire consequences for their sin. The ring-leaders died immediately by the hand of those who had not participated in the sinful idolatry. Others died from a plague. Deuteronomy tells us all the fighting men died in the wilderness.
So, while the people's relationship with God was strained, Moses's only grew stronger. He set up a tent outside the camp where he went to speak with God. And then God called him back up onto the mountain again.
In Chapter 34, Moses took two more stone tablets and hiked to the top of Mount Sinai. There, God revealed the His character to Moses through the proclamation of His name: Yahweh. Moses responded with an act of worship. He bowed down to the ground. There is something about the pysical act of bowing low that not only shows God our awe of Him, but affects us. Have you ever experienced such an overwhelming revelation of His glory that you fell on your knees, or your face, before Him? It is an almost involuntary act at first, born of a desire to acknowledge that I'm giving up all control and putting my life in His hands.
Interestingly, what did Moses do next? He asked God one more time to go with the people. Isn't that what naturally comes along with worship? We want to talk to God, to tell him the things most important to us. God agreed. He forgave their sin.
God then outlined the covenant again, as a renewal of the vows. But the covenant was dependent upon the people keeping God's instructions, His terms of the deal, if you will. Highlighted in verses 10-17 is the most important part--not having any other gods and not even compromising with the enemy on this issue.
Is God the ruler of your life? Is there any compromise?
Verses 29-35 tell us that Moses's face began to glow as a result of spending so much time with God and His glory. This same principle still works today. When we spend time with Him every day in worship and prayer, our faces will change. People will notice. Do you know somebody who just glows because of their walk with the Lord? I think we all do. Don't you want to be that person? After today, you know how. Join me in a daily pursuit of Jesus and let's see if we can't all radiate the love of Christ.
But there were dire consequences for their sin. The ring-leaders died immediately by the hand of those who had not participated in the sinful idolatry. Others died from a plague. Deuteronomy tells us all the fighting men died in the wilderness.
So, while the people's relationship with God was strained, Moses's only grew stronger. He set up a tent outside the camp where he went to speak with God. And then God called him back up onto the mountain again.
In Chapter 34, Moses took two more stone tablets and hiked to the top of Mount Sinai. There, God revealed the His character to Moses through the proclamation of His name: Yahweh. Moses responded with an act of worship. He bowed down to the ground. There is something about the pysical act of bowing low that not only shows God our awe of Him, but affects us. Have you ever experienced such an overwhelming revelation of His glory that you fell on your knees, or your face, before Him? It is an almost involuntary act at first, born of a desire to acknowledge that I'm giving up all control and putting my life in His hands.
Interestingly, what did Moses do next? He asked God one more time to go with the people. Isn't that what naturally comes along with worship? We want to talk to God, to tell him the things most important to us. God agreed. He forgave their sin.
God then outlined the covenant again, as a renewal of the vows. But the covenant was dependent upon the people keeping God's instructions, His terms of the deal, if you will. Highlighted in verses 10-17 is the most important part--not having any other gods and not even compromising with the enemy on this issue.
Is God the ruler of your life? Is there any compromise?
Verses 29-35 tell us that Moses's face began to glow as a result of spending so much time with God and His glory. This same principle still works today. When we spend time with Him every day in worship and prayer, our faces will change. People will notice. Do you know somebody who just glows because of their walk with the Lord? I think we all do. Don't you want to be that person? After today, you know how. Join me in a daily pursuit of Jesus and let's see if we can't all radiate the love of Christ.
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