Defined and Refined

For God has not called us for the purpose of impurity, but in sanctification.

                                 – 1 Thessalonians 4:7

An antonym is defined in the Oxford Dictionary as a word opposite in meaning to another. Understanding opposites is helpful because often we define what something is, or come to a greater understanding of what it is, by exploring what it is not. When a word has an unclear antonym, you might be able to quickly get to the opposite meaning by simply adding a prefix like “im” or “un” to the root word, which has become a standard practice in the English
language.

While the world can effortless convey an opposite sentiment with a simple prefix, we risk losingthe richness of God’s intention for us if we apply this practice in our Christian walk and allow the world’s definition to shape our worldview. Impurity is wrongly defined by the world’s
antonyms – dirty, shameful, unredeemable. But God’s antonym for impurity is sanctification, which encourages us to hold our bodies in honor (see 1 Thessalonians 4:4).

Whose worldview have you allowed to define you? Are you allowing the world to form you or are you holding on to God’s gracious definition to transform you?

Lord, I pray for wisdom to know when I am being defined by the world instead of you. Open my eyes to Your design, your will and your plan for me to live a life defined only by You. 

Laying Down the Law

Have you ever try to lay down the law on yourself? You are going on a diet tomorrow, but today you make the unhealthiest food choices. You are going to put your phone away to have face time with your family, then you binge on Facebook for three hours. You are going to get your money right and stick to a budget, then you max out the last credit card you had any room on. The prospect of discipline drives us to go further astray. It doesn’t fix the problem. 

This is exactly the relationship between the Law and sin – the Law not only defines, but magnifies the problem with the human heart. Unchecked, without the Law, we are ignorant to our heart’s leanings, and while the Law exposes it, it can only contain it for a time. 
Our situation, if left right there – is hopeless – we can never be good enough, do enough or be enough to fulfill the letter of the Law. Lawbreakers deserve death, God remains unchangeable, and so the Law must be fulfilled. God’s wrath appears to be the only recourse, but love changes everything. 
Because of His great love, something quite remarkable was set in motion … God became flesh and made His dwelling among us. He came for us – for you and for me. He lived a perfect life and died a gruesome death on a cross to free us from the penalty of sin – because of His great love. Jesus conquered sin and death and lives today at the right hand of our Father – advocating for us because he knows exactly what it’s like to be human.  

The Inconsolable Sadness of May and Grace

I had myself a good cry in the car on my way to work this morning.  It’s been a while.  I honestly believe that sadness is a characteristic of the mild to acute depression that is hereditary in the women my family, and because of this, I am always a bit scared when I am inexplicably sad.  Then I realized the date – its May 1^st.   Shakespeare very appropriately said that rough winds shake the darling buds of May, and May has always been unusually rough for me – at least since 1995.   That was the year my mother died.

 You can imagine my relief when I came to this realization this morning.   I know that many of you reading this will have absolutely no idea what this is like.  It’s a frail, solemn club that we who have lost our mothers are in.  Sadly, it doesn’t matter if you lost your mom when she was 30, 60, or 80 – the void is the same and its forever.  At least that’s what I find as I move towards the 18^th anniversary of my mom’s passing.  I find now that after all these years, that the pain goes from subtle to excruciating with subconscious promptings – for me every year, its Mother’s Day (duh), Relay for Life celebrations, Memorial Day, and most recently, my Facebook feed bringing me the comingled dramas and victories of cancer patients fighting, winning and losing their battles.  At other times, I clearly see God connecting me to a greater understanding of Him through her.   

 

My mother’s life was characterized by uncompromising grace, the lessons of which I am still learning.  Just this weekend, as I was contemplating “contemplative prayer”, love and grace after finishing Brennan Manning’s Ragamuffin Gospel, I remembered a time when my mother was actively fostering teenaged girls. These were the girls who got a little wild with other foster families and the next step was a group home environment – my mother always loved the hardest people to love and took in the children who were toughest to place.  One day, this lovely pair who knew each other for a few weeks after having met in my mother’s home, decided they were going to run away together.  One of the girls had a sister, who apparently wasn’t deemed fit to care for her that they were going to run off and live with.  My mother informed me of this fact over lunch at her house on a cool spring day, much like last Saturday.  Apparently these children had been gone for hours, having left sometime in the night.  I asked my mom if she called the police.  She calmly replied, “No.  I was waiting for you to get here so you and Pauline could go look for them.”

 

Go look for them – somewhere in New York City.   My mother wanted us to go find two wild girls that I barely knew, who had been in my mom’s care only for a few months, in one of the biggest, most dangerous cities in the world.   This seemed completely reasonable to her.  My response, sadly, was another question – why didn’t you call the police? After all, it was the only right thing to do.

 

I didn’t know exactly how, but with very little to go on, somewhere between the Bronx and an apartment building in Spanish Harlem, we found these girls and brought them home.   At the time I thought it might have been due to Pauline’s excellent acting skills when knocking on the apartment door (it felt like we were reenacting a scene out of a Law and Order episode), but now I realize that it was much more than that – it was God’s grace at work.

 

My inclination was to call in the law – my mother’s reaction was grace.  Those girls were so loved by my mom, even when they gave her no reason to love them, that she was willing to risk her reputation and her status with the foster care agency by not calling the police.  She loved them so that she sent her own daughters to look for them in the parts of New York City that most tourists never see to give them another chance.  I realized last Saturday that this is exactly what God does for us.  Instead of exacting the full measure of the law, as is His divine right, He sent His Son, our Big Brother into the world to us to search out and seek what was lost – sullied, unwanted, unlovable and desperately lost.  We get exactly what we don’t deserve. 

I don’t know where these girls are now, but my hope is that like me, they are still unravelling these lessons we learned from my mother, and I pray that they might still be making connections from my mother’s life and actions as often as I am.  I am always comforted by the fact that there are so many people who were deeply touched by her love.  Although there are more sad days ahead for me, I can always rest in that until I’m with her again.    

Seven Things I Love About The Great American Bible Challenge

These are in no particular order.

1. Men. I love that two weeks into the show, they still have guys who love the word and are highly engaged in knowing God’s word.

2. Jeff Foxworthy. Confession – I was thinking “smarter than a 5th grader” – that he would expose the whole world to American Christianity’s biblical illiteracy issue. I was pleasantly surprised to be wrong about that one. He is a gracious host and very entertaining and may actually be covertly helping to solve that problem.

3. Light, fun, yet honoring. The questions are well written, categories are playfully yet respectfully written.

4. Charity. Teams seem really committed to their causes – Minnie’s Food Pantry had me in tears when they won. It challenges me to be more giving and committed.

5. Gracious losers. So far, everybody’s happy, and no one seems to be down in the mouth about not coming away winners.

6. Bible Study Time. I am thrilled any time I see people discussing God’s word. I would love to see the contestants using some study tools. Is a concordance too much to ask for?

7. The Choir. Nothing engages me more completely than gospel harmonies.

I Have Issues

According to Francis Chan, I really do. I was one of those people who waited in eager anticipation of the new Chan/Sprinkle book, Erasing Hell, because I was simply captivated with intellectual curiosity. The controversy ignited by the release of the Rob Bell’s Love Wins promotional video and the twitterverse erupting in response that culminated on the cover of Time magazine was literally a cerebral feast for me. The countless blog posts, response books, and thoughtful post-mortem articles about what we learned as a community were added brain gravy.

I read Love Wins before I read Erasing Hell, mostly because I didn’t want to be one of “those people”  who reacted without a complete set of facts, but more so because I thought Chan and Sprinkle were writing a response to it. It turns out that they did and they didn’t – Erasing Hell was much more than that.

While I was intellectually satisfied by finally reading Erasing Hell, I was also deeply convicted that prior to reading it, I missed the whole point. Shaping theology for 21st century and sound exegetical interpretation wasn’t the point. The fact that people are going to hell is.

As  I said earlier, Erasing Hell is and isn’t a response to Love Wins, and I don’t believe it was intended to be. The approach to the areas of Bell’s book that begged for correction, namely that Gehenna was the city dump, hell is a place for correction and purification, and the gates of the New Jerusalem are eternally open and waiting for those released from the fire were addressed with in a spirit of love and correction with respect. By chapter 4, roughly mid way through the book, there are no overt references to Love Wins.

Chan and Sprinkle then focus on what is really at issue – there is a real hell where people who are living all around us today will go if they don’t accept Jesus and start living differently.

“We can’t be wrong on this one.”

“When it comes to hell, we can’t afford to be wrong.”

“Don’t forget to tremble.”

Structured like a Pauline epistle, Erasing Hell first sets out and corrects the erroneous doctrine of the day, pressing into scripture and scholarship with equal intensity as Chan and Sprinkle refute the more dangerous aspects of the point of view expounded by Bell.  Before moving into the exegesis of the new testament teachings of Jesus, John, Peter and Jude, they ensure that the 1st century foundations for understanding the content of the teachings was laid, most notably that for 1st century Jews, hell was punishment as a result of God’s righteous judgment, would have been a given, which added the appropriate heaviness to the expounded teachings of Jesus and his followers.

Chan and Sprinkle then urgently explain how we should not only think differently in light of this information, but live differently. With the same level of loving admonition that Paul wrote to the Ephesians in the later chapters of that epistle, they go on to paint solemn warnings for Christ’s church today.

To say that the imagery of hell in this context is sobering is an understatement. Judgment. Punishment. Wrath. Lake of Fire. Utter darkness. Weeping and gnashing of teeth. Whether or not this is an eternal destiny or final annihilation isn’t ultimately decided by Chan and Sprinkle (although Chan admittedly leans towards the everlasting and eternal view vs. destructive), but considering the imagery, I, like the authors, have a new appreciation for the cross and Jesus, and his willingness to endure that horror and agony for me.

And at this point, I repented – “God wants us to do more than intellectually agree with scripture, he wants us to live in light of them.” Chan and Sprinkle make sure that the reader understands that this is life and death – most likely in perpetuity – and this subject impacts the fate of every person that has ever breathed on this planet. I am encouraged to grieve, mourn and rejoice and live my life in the beautiful tension that is created by knowing, and serving and loving a God whose ways are so much higher than ours.

Hell is real, judgment and wrath aren’t pretty, but God is God, and he is good, even when we can’t understand His ways.

Loving the Gay Community

I don’t enjoy squirming, and watching people squirm really is annoying. When famous (insert dripping irony here) Christians come out and evade hard questions I am deeply disturbed. For the record, I never saw an instance in the Bible that Jesus did that.

Jesus answered questions from the crowd on point – yes, sometimes with a question, because the expectation was that you would find the answer yourself if you took a hard, practical look. He forced those around him to think. That is great leadership.

It would have been great if someone from the crowd yelled out, “Teacher, what about the gays?” I hope one day I will get e chance to ask him myself, because this is one issue that Jesus didn’t address. He went hard after the Pharisees and defended those who couldn’t defend themselves, but his summation of the Law was to love God and neighbor (with a great parable to define neighbor) with his only addendum being “as I have loved you.”

Parables, Jesus’s preferred way of communicating with the masses, force us to reconsider what is around us and apply our God given sense of reason, and in the Christian context, the Holy Spirit’s leading is paramount to understanding. Jesus doesn’t tell us what to think, he teaches us how with the Holy Spirit’s enablement.

So, at the risk of getting unFriended and unFollowed this morning, I am going “on the record” to say that God loves gays, and we are not equipped in the slightest to make the call on whether or not this is a lifestyle or a sin, or any of the other things that both sides of this debate. Christ called us to love as he did, unconditionally and sacrificially. Love and harsh judgement is a house divided, and Jesus teaches that a house divided will not stand.

Today, as Jesus commanded, I choose love. Not “loving the sinner, hating the sin”, just love. I’m reserving judgment of “sin” for the one true Judge.

Loving My Scars

Sad and maybe a little sick, but true – I love my scars. There are great stories of both triumph and tears behind each one of them. My left elbow tells the tale of a Mother’s Day motocross race long ago, involving a finish line jump and a well meaning (and poorly executed) desire to clear it. I learned how not to let off the gas at the top of the hill – the scar on my right elbow proves it. On my left shin, the scar from the foot peg comes from loading up my bike after the first time I went to a practice session unassisted by Bob or Nick.
On my right arm, I wear the heartbreaking teeth marks of a beautiful, powerful and misunderstood dog that bit me while having an absence seizure. The scars I wear emotionally from that incident are much more prominent. They are a reminder that the ones you love the most are the most likely to cause you the greatest disappointment and pain.
The scars we wear on our hearts are much less noticeable, but much more dangerous. Betrayal and loss leave profound marks on our hearts that, if not appropriately dealt with, will contribute to further damage and ugly healed marks.
I got to thinking about these scars today because they are so much prominent now that my skin is tanned – exposure to the sun makes my scars much more noticeable, and I couldn’t help but thinking that my perspective on these scars would really shape how those around me see them when they are out in the open. Whether physical or emotional, your approach to your scars, whether positive or negative, will determine how those around you will see them. Your heart, along with its scars, will undoubtedly be exposed to opportunities to love and trust. If you can see strength and resilience in your healed emotional wounds, then you healed well, and you can be proud of your circumstances, and the person you are because of them.

Who gets to label a heretic, or a universalist, for that matter?

I’m starting this blog post by setting out, up front, that I am NOT jumping into the debate around whether or not Rob Bell is a heretic, universalist, or anything else for that matter. In fact, I’m going to leave Rob and his new book, Love Wins, out of this. I am not a theologian, and I am not interested in taking a side on whether or not this book will damn anyone to the hell they don’t believe in.

I might have just lost a lot of you who thought this was yet more fodder for Bell bashing, but if you are still reading this, you might be asking yourself why on earth I would start a blog post like that in light of the recent thunderbolt that struck the Twitterverse on this subject and its aftermath. The truth is I’ve been more focused on the reaction than the debate, in an effort to understand why there is a tendency to name and classify absolutely everything and every thought around us.

I realized this morning that the answer to my question was in Genesis 2:19, where we learn that “the LORD God had formed out of the ground all the wild animals and all the birds in the sky. He brought them to the man to see what he would name them; and whatever the man called each living creature, that was its name.” God actually brought each living thing to Adam so that he could name it. Adam gave it a name, and it was so. Adam was given the exclusive right to name that which he was given dominion over in the Garden of Eden. This verse points to a “soul DNA” explanation for man to have the propensity to classify and name the things around them.

There where however, exceptions – two trees, the tree of life, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, were named by God. The latter was specifically excluded from man’s control – eating from that tree was the only prohibited act in the garden. Man’s tendency to name and differentiate theology, movements, and schools of thought just might be an sinful overextension of the naming rights that were given to man in the Garden.

I would be cautious about naming anything that God didn’t bring to me for that purpose, and I’d be just as careful about what knolwedge trees I am eating from too.

Still riding on the back of my man’s bike … and loving it!

I am often asked why I don’t have a street bike. It’s a legitimate question – even with the U.S. market for motorcycles being down 15% last year, women riders grew by 2%, and, according to knol.google.com, the women’s motorcycle market has grown by 29% in less than 10 years.

It stands to reason that the question comes more often from random people making conversation when we are out on the motorcycle than from people who know me and actually know that I can ride a motorcycle. The dirty looks and sneers I get from most women within hearing range of my response is always counterbalanced by the gaze of admiration from the men who quickly ask whether I have a single sister.

The answer, you see, seems uncomplicated, but it always seems to stir up curbside controversy. I don’t ride on the street simply because my husband doesn’t want me to. While I thoroughly enjoy throwing a leg over a dirt bike and have actually raced motocross in a local women’s class in the past, I choose to follow my husband’s wishes because I know he has my best interests at heart. I defer to him because I know he wants the best for me and because he knows me better than I know myself. That’s biblical submission its finest.

When we were actively riding and racing as a family, there wasn’t much time left for much else but motocross. We loved every minute of it, but we had very little time for a Sunday afternoon a ride on the street. When we finally made time to get away together, I unintentionally became a terrible passenger. I leaned when I shouldn’t have been leaning. I anticipated turns and repositioned myself on the back of the bike as I would have on a dirt bike. And, perhaps most significant, I stopped holding on to my man. We lost the harmony of riding together, and until I course corrected, riding me around became a chore. We stopped having fun. Non-compliance always has consequences.

Now when I get on the back of my man’s bike, I know am turning over the journey over to him to do what God made him to do – protect me and lead me. I know I’m never just “along for the ride” – we are equal partners. He values me leaning into his ear to point out that the restaurant we are looking for is not too far ahead or where the scent of fresh daffodils is coming from. I love being able to kiss the back of his neck at a traffic stop and give him a quick squeeze with my thighs to let him know I’m having a great time. The point is that he is out front, taking the bugs to the face, pelts of unforecasted rain, dodging oblivious drivers on cell phones and whatever other challenges the road might offer up that day, and I am free to just appreciate being behind him and enjoy the ride – I wouldn’t have it any other way.

What Hinders You?

I’ve been thinking a lot about hindrances, especially after having been shut in for the past 4 days.  The ice and snow, coupled with the lack of infrastructure to deal with it has kept me indoors for the latter half of the week, with found hours for reflection.  Yes, I’ll admit – at least 4 -5 of those hours should have been spent showing and grooming, but honestly, I learned a lot this week.   In some ways, I confirmed what I already knew – that lacking structure, I quickly revert to a level of carefree living that rivals that of the my 5^th grade Summer (my sisters and cousins will remember the Summer of 77 – the one where we spent at least 30 days in the same bathing suit and the chlorine in the pool our only hygiene), but I also spent a lot of time in God’s word (specifically Romans 8 and Galatians) and on the internet reading blogs and postings from Christians I respect.

I’ve learned about me and my adoption into God’s family.  I am a co-heir with Christ because of Jesus’ sacrifice.   I don’t know about you, but sometimes I have trouble remembering who I am supposed to be in that.  I worry about being qualified to act on my Father’s behalf, even when I know He is calling me to His side to get involved, when in fact He has called me to that specific purpose.

For some reason, I hear people talking about where they are from, what they’ve done and how long they’ve done it, and my mind shifts into a curriculum vitae mode – the moment I hear it, I hear “this is what has qualified me to say what I am about to say …” Instead of measuring my qualifications by the only measure that counts – the Blood of Christ and the empowerment of the Holy Spirit – I find myself measuring against the spiritual resume of others.   I grew up in New York, far from the Bible belt – and church wasn’t the cultural “do” that it is here in Texas.  I’ve never been to seminary.   I don’t have 20 or more years of faithful service to God.  I allow those “shortcomings” to hinder me.   I feel the Spirit moving me, calling me to action, and I throw up these shortcomings as barriers to obedience. 

I’m learning that God uses people however and whenever He wants, no matter where they might be in their life and in their walk with Him.  11 seemingly unqualified men, after hanging around Jesus for only 3 years, have changed the world.  Shortly thereafter, a seemingly highly qualified man joined them, who blissfully admitted that he knew nothing apart from the cross. 

So, today, I am committing to throwing off everything that hinders.  That includes feeling smaller than the others around me.    If I am to live in the fullness that I was intended to live in, I must be prepared to answer His calling without human reservation.