Does faith really “move mountains” or is it “blind”? To describe faith as mountain-moving obviously implies it is able to do things on a magnificently grand scale! To describe faith as blind, on the other hand, well that doesn’t quite paint it in as favorable a light. It implies that it isn’t really founded on anything – some people run with it, and some don’t, but there isn’t really much on which to base it.
Except that there is.
A person is not justified by the works of the law, but by faith in Jesus Christ. So we, too, have put our faith in Christ Jesus that we may be justified by faith in Christ and not by the works of the law, because by the works of the law no one will be justified.”
Did you catch it? I hope so, because the phrase was repeated three times in just one verse: “faith in Jesus/Christ.” Christian faith isn’t blind at all! It is “in Jesus.” That means it is based on something – someOne – real! This a real person, whose real words and real actions can really be studied and scrutinized. Now you may reject his real words and his real actions, but you can’t claim that a faith in Jesus is “blind,” because that conclusion itself is blind at best, and deliberately deceptive at worst.
As for me, I believe his words and actions wholeheartedly, and am blessed to have the fullest life right here and now – and into eternity – because of them. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some mountains to go move.
I didn’t say that I want to die, but that I’m ready to die. I’m not suicidal. I wasn’t diagnosed with a terminal disease that has given me mere months to live. No, I’m just ready to die.
I am often struck by the energy and effort many put into life… without scarcely a thought about death. Perhaps they (you?) wish to avoid thinking about it. Perhaps they (you?) don’t put much stock in it (that is, what happens after death), so the belief is that if this life is all that there is, then we had better make it count.
But here’s what I have found: my life is so very meaningful and richly fulfilling because I am ready to die. That is because I know what will happen when I exhale for the very last time.
“I know that my redeemerlives, and that in the end he will stand on the earth. I myself will see him with my own eyes – I and not another. How my heart yearns within me!”
Job 19:25, 27 (NIV)
I’m ready to die, for I am at peace now with what I know will happen then.
So no, it isn’t the end of the world when hardship hits me in this life. Tragedy doesn’t turn my world upside down. Loss doesn’t leave me languishing helplessly. Bad things will inevitably happen, and I will take them in stride.
What’s more, I can give my absolute best in this life, because the life that is coming to me is the kind of gift that prompts one to spend his time here on earth expressing gratitude in every way possible.
You would be disappointed if you had put a lot of thought, effort, and $$$ into the perfect gift… only to find out that the intended recipient had never received it. What a shame! Who knows what happiness and delight that gift may have brought that person? Who knows how deeply they might have appreciated it? It may have been just what they needed at just the right time.
If you personally know the thought, effort, and ultimately the price – not $$$, but his own Son! – that God put into sending his Gift into the world on Christmas, then imagine how different your life would be if you didn’t! Shudder at the thought of it!
But here’s the thing: you know others who don’t know about this Gift that we celebrate at Christmas. What difference would it make if in the next week, the next 7 days, the next 168 hours, you did whatever was necessary to invite them to hear about this Gift with us this Christmas? Or… do you mistakenly think that God’s gift was just for you?
She had studied intensely to pass a certification test.
She had failed. Miserably.
Or so she thought. See, the original raw score she had received immediately after completing the test reflected numbers that she knew were far below what was required to pass. She texted me right away to let me know she had done poorly. However, after she arrived home and we talked about it a bit, she looked online and saw different scores that were apparently determined by a different grading scale. She had passed! She wasn’t the miserable failure she initially feared she was (which we both already knew)! Her pass/fail was simply determined by a different final grading scale.
I fear a significant number will encounter a similar shock when their life here on earth is over and they have to stand before the Lord. Only the shock will come for a different reason. Many have the impression that they’re passing the test with flying colors. They’re good people. They mean well. They treat others kindly. They don’t steal. They have no track record of domestic violence. They don’t swear. They’ve never even torn the tag off a mattress!
But what happens when they find out that God grades on a different scale? What happens when they turn in their life test that they figured would easily make the grade, only to find that not only is it not good enough – it’s complete trash! The thing is, there won’t be any good people in heaven. Heaven is for perfect people, and perfect people only. Newsflash: you’re not one of them. Neither am I.
That’s where Jesus comes in. Jesus brings a curve to the grading scale. It benefits all who believe in his perfection in their place and his payment (with his life!) for their failing grades. Jesus made the grade for all who believe. He passed the test for us. If you’re not counting on his perfection when the final grades are posted, you’re in for a surprise.
The good news? As long as you’re living and breathing (which I assume you are if you’re reading this!), God allows as many retakes as necessary until you let Jesus pass the test for you.
Ask around to see how grateful folks are for natural disasters like hurricanes and tropical storms, and you’re not likely to get overwhelmingly positive responses. You might even get punched in the face. Expressions of appreciation and thanks aren’t usually lumped together in reports of “catastrophic flooding,” “billions of dollars in damage,” and “rising death toll.” On the extreme side of things, some may even be inclined to resort to the old tactic of using disasters as ammunition in the war against any notion of a loving God. After all, how could a loving God, if he is supposedly capable of shushing the wind and waves, allow such death and destruction?
But, perhaps before we hastily jump to that conclusion, can we at least pause for a moment to entertain the possibility of good resulting from natural disasters? Might there actually be, even in the wake of such tragedy and loss, a reason or two for which to give thanks?
Allow me to suggest two such reasons. Now, you may not like them or agree with them, but perhaps they’ll at least widen your perspective on such things in the future. That may not be a bad thing since the chances of a natural disaster happening again sometime are approximately 100%.
So what’s there to be thankful for in the midst of a natural disaster? For starters, they’re humbling, aren’t they? For all that mankind has achieved – and our resumé is very impressive! – we can’t do a thing to thwart natural disaster. We can predict it. We can prepare for it.
But we can’t prevent it.
That’s humbling because it stifles our ingenuity and pummels our pride. It also forces us to face our mortality. Some are more OK with that aspect of it than others (even if they shouldn’t be). Nevertheless, anytime the reality of death and our own mortality shake us by the shoulders a bit, it gives pause to our head-in-the-sand tendency to avoid such morbid matters. Like it or not, when phrases like “rising death toll” creep their way into report after report, it may be about the only time folks give thought to anything beyond what’s going to happen in just the next 30 seconds.
The second reason to give thanks when natural disasters strike? I think we see plenty of evidence of God’s love. If you don’t, it’s because you’re focusing only on the before and not the after. The truth is, we often see the best side of mankind in the aftermath of natural disasters. Stories of sacrifice, daring rescues, heartfelt compassion, etc. – these are all prominently displayed when others are hurting and in need. Chalk that up to “human decency” if you want to (and then just look the other way when reports of looting and price gauging come up – not mankind at his best), but what if it is precisely through these actions and this behavior that God’s love is truly being expressed? If one must first experience the bitter to appreciate the sweet, then why shouldn’t God choose to show his boundless love in the wake of the world’s worst disasters? Why does God get all the blame for the disaster and no credit for the good that comes out of it?
Maybe, just maybe, we might consider giving him thanks instead.
We put together an impressive resume to demonstrate to a potential employer that we are qualified for the job. We compose an essay to show we are worthy of consideration for the educational scholarship. We put the best version of ourselves on display while dating others so that we might be seen as a potential spouse.
Going to great lengths to convince others of our worth comes quite naturally to us. In fact, much of our lives depend on it. Don’t expect to get hired if you don’t have the required skills. Don’t expect to get accepted into the school of your choice if you didn’t make the grades. Don’t expect to woo a future spouse if you don’t have any desirable qualities or achievements.
Do you see why grace is such a tough pill for us to swallow? Grace – God’s undeserved love – is a gift that is freely given, to a world that is bent on earning. It goes against our very nature that is so accustomed to establishing merit.
The problem is this: while merit alone might achieve much for us in life, the one area in which it can’t make even the slightest dent is in our standing before God. See, God’s standards are quite simple – impossible for us, but simple: he just demands that we never screw anything up.
Ever.
Not in our thinking, not in our speaking, and not in our doing. Get it right… all the time. That’s all he expects. Perfection – literally.
And frankly, that rules you out. That rules me out. That rules everyone out.
But that’s where grace comes in. Grace turns that reality upside down. It rules no one out and counts everyone in.
For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God” (Ephesians 2:8 NIV).
We are saved by grace. You don’t get hired to it. You don’t have to apply for it. You don’t have to show that you deserve it. None of us do. None of us could, anyway. That’s what makes it grace.
Do you want to know what’s especially hard about being a pastor?
The praise.
If that sounds weird, let me explain. Believe it or not, pastors are as insecure and unsure of ourselves as the next guy. We have that same voice in our head constantly second-guessing ourselves and telling us that we’re not good enough. “I can’t believe you made anyone get up out of bed this morning for THAT sermon.” “How on earth did you NOT think to apply THAT passage in that conversation, you bonehead?” “Your seven year-old could counsel couples better than you.”
And so, as you might imagine, when you tell us after the service, “Nice sermon, pastor,” it feels great. For a few moments, your encouragement and affirmation shut out our insecurity and we’re on cloud nine.
But then something else can happen. There’s another voice. It isn’t the voice of insecurity, but a different voice. Just like that, a word of encouragement or a genuine compliment can send our insecurity packing and open the door to a most unwelcome, yet all-too-frequent guest: the voice of pride. “Well if he said THAT about my sermon, then my preaching must not be too shabby.” “If everyone nodded their head in agreement at my suggestion during the meeting, then maybe I AM a pretty good leader.” “They don’t ask just ANYONE to write for this publication or to speak to that group.”
So why is this hard? Praise feels good, and it’s nice to be liked, but we didn’t become pastors for more likes. We didn’t become pastors to pursue praise for ourselves. We did it to point more people to Jesus, the Savior, since our relationship with him is the one thing that matters most in this life and the next.
When we receive praise, while we appreciate it, we are immediately concerned about the possibility that Jesus just got relegated to the warm-up act and we’ve become the main attraction. And while we each have this part of us that secretly (or not so secretly) thrives on that (hello, Old Adam), we also have this other part of us that is absolutely devastated by it. Jesus is already an afterthought for too many, too often in life; the last place he should be an afterthought is in the life of a pastor. And that can happen if we allow compliments to crowd out Christ.
So how do I overcome this struggle? I don’t. He already did. The solution to this struggle is the same as it has always been: weekly – daily! – I must be first to run to the cross, the tomb, the table, and the font, before I ever lead anyone else there. And there alone do I find peace and forgiveness that only Jesus provides. Then, and only then, am I ready once again to point others to him, and direct their praise to him as well.
Has anyone ever expressed to you that some recent tragedy or heartbreak has them teetering on the brink of losing their faith? Have you wrestled with this issue before or… are you wrestling with it right now?
While it might seem as if suffering some singular sucker-punching event is to blame, that isn’t the most likely cause of our faith struggles.
The child of God is faced with daily choices that will impact how his relationship with Jesus plays out. Jesus laid out for us a simple rule of thumb – a gracious promise, really – to guide and keep us in a vibrant, life-long relationship with him. He said:
Remain in me, and I will remain in you” (John 15:4 NIV).
Notice there is no threat or coercion in Jesus’ words. They sound, in fact, like more of an invitation. So how will a believer RSVP to Jesus’ invitation/promise? He can see Jesus’ promise fulfilled as he remains in him through a steady diet of devotion, study, and worship, which allow the Bible to sustain and strengthen faith; or, he can see the negative corollary to Jesus’ promise fulfilled as he drifts away from him through a steady desertion of devotion, study, and worship, without which the Bible cannot sustain and strengthen faith. Either way, Jesus is keeping his promise. The child of God determines in what way by his use – or neglect – of God’s Word.
Gradually, what may have at one time been a strong and healthy relationship with the Savior Jesus erodes into a distant memory, or digresses into a relationship like a social media friendship, which can deceive us into thinking we have a real relationship simply because we’ve scrolled past occasional updates in our newsfeed, but have not actually engaged or interacted with a person for years.
But it doesn’t seem that way in our mind. What it seems like is this: when tragedy strikes, then all of a sudden the blame is placed squarely on God’s shoulders. In the midst of pain and heartbreak, among the swirling questions of “How could God let this happen?”, the conclusion is drawn: “This singular event has caused or is causing me to lose my faith in God.”
Only that’s not very likely true. Truthfully, faith in God has been dwindling for some time, because his Word has been far away, and so then has he. While it might feel like this singular event is the cause of resentment driving a person to slam the door in God’s face and be done with him, the reality is that the person has probably just been slowly shutting the door on his face for a long time already.
When awareness of this hits a person, something profound happens. It’s called guilt. And there are really two ways to respond to that feeling of guilt. One, which Satan loves, is to pretend the guilt can be washed off our hands by simply washing ourselves clean from God. “Be done with him and the guilt goes away and you’ll feel much better.” This response is the real tragedy.
The other, God-desired response, is to run back into the loving arms of the Father, in true prodigal son-like fashion, and weep tears of joy as he welcomes you back. Mark this: he will always welcome you back. Always. Since all sin – even our relationship ruining neglect – has been paid for in full through Jesus, the Father’s arms are always open and waiting.
Dear friend, no singular event, no matter how tragic or terrible, causes us to lose our faith in God. Don’t allow faith to weaken to the point of believing such a lie. Yet, no matter how weak it may be, faith can always be reforged in the Father’s arms. It’s not too late to run back to him. It never is, even – especially! – in the face of tragedy.
A commercial triggers an unexpected laugh or perhaps even a tear. It leaves enough of an impact that you find yourself asking others if they saw it.
Then, as you discuss it, it hits you: you can’t for the life of you remember what the commercial was for. You don’t even recall the product that was pitched or the service being sold. In that regard, the commercial would have to be chalked up as an advertising failure! While it was memorable enough to bring up in discussion, you can’t even remember what it was about.
That sums up Christmas for a lot of people. They like it, they think, but they don’t really know what it’s about. The result can often be that this time of year ends up being exhausting or disappointing or both. More to do = more stress (which few of us need more of in our already-in-constant-hyperdrive lives!). More stress = shorter fuse. Shorter fuse = more tension and bickering. Merry Christmas!!!
But it has to be about something, right? So we don our gay apparel and troll the ancient yuletide carols (even if we have no clue what any of that means). We channel our inner Martha Stewart (or Chip & Joanna Gaines?) and transform our home and yard into a wonderland. We craft a witty Christmas letter accompanied by a fine family photo (or at least the one without the kids making any facial disfigurations). We catch our kids’ play or musical performance (or at least someone’s video clip of it). We lay out our gift-giving budget. We take time for traditions. We bake cookies. We clean. We host. Serve. Travel. Visit. Party. Spend. Give…
So. Much. Doing.
The only problem is, when we make all the doing at Christmas our own, we leave little room for God’s doing. That’s when it’s easy to forget what it’s about (assuming we ever even knew in the first place):
I bring you good news of great joy… a Savior was born for you… Christ the Lord. ‘…peace, good will toward mankind.” (Luke 2:10-14 EHV)
Let Christmas this year be memorable on its own merits, not yours. Let Christmas be about Christ, and be at peace.
That may come across as a bit arrogant or pompous. OK, it’s a lot arrogant and pompous. But can you at least appreciate my honesty?
After all, isn’t that pretty much what we mean when we’re commenting on someone else’s words or actions? “I wish they would be more like me.” They shouldn’t have done, said, or handled it the way they did, but how I would have done, said, or handled it.
Truth is, deep down we all tend to think pretty highly of ourselves, and perhaps that is most reflected by our natural inclination to analyze the behavior of others on a continual basis. Sometimes we’ll verbalize our analysis; other times we just keep it to ourselves. Either way, we are constantly giving others our own personal performance review to determine whether or not they measure up. And we use ourselves as the standard (even if we pretend to mask it with such nonsense as “Not that I am perfect, by any means, but…”).
We look for ways to deny or deflect this reality, like placing the blame on how awful social media is, but the hard truth is that such things are merely a reflection of our own ugly reality (Remember when it was convenient to blame everything on “the media”? Have we realized how much social media has shown us where the finger really should have been pointed the whole time?).
What if there was a filter we could first apply to ourselves before making an assessment of others? Would you find that helpful? Do you think it might also shape the lens through which you view the words and actions of others? Let me suggest one:
Finally, all of you, be like-minded, be sympathetic, love one another, be compassionate and humble” (1 Peter 3:8 NIV).
Before I determine whether or not someone else fits this description, I do well to perform a quick self-assessment. As I quickly realize my own shortfalls, I am less inclined to render my own judgment on someone else’s words or actions, since “I wish they would be more like me” doesn’t quite have the same ring to it anymore.
The added bonus of such a filter? It leads me back to the One who alone fits the description perfectly.
