1 Thing Matters

 

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.

I wish they would be more like me.

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.

No one can dispute the blessings technology affords us in making the Word of God accessible in virtually any setting imaginable. We can download sermon videos or podcasts, sit in virtually on Bible studies, listen to our favorite hymns or worship bands, be edified through blogs, follow pastors we respect on social media for encouragement and inspiration, and the list goes on. And, we can do all of these things without even setting foot in a church!

And the devil eats it up.

Now don’t get me wrong: the devil is not thrilled that you are using your phone to stay connected to the Word of God. He doesn’t dig that part of it (he would much rather you made use of its more destructive and damaging purposes). However, he will count it as a long-term win if the believer’s connection to a phone replaces the believer’s connection to a church home.

Here is my point: that screen in your hand has the ability to bring countless spiritual blessings to you day in and day out, if you choose to use it that way. It will not, however, ever replace a local congregation of Christians. To think otherwise is to forfeit the many unique blessings Jesus provides for his children who come together as a church. Two blessings in particular that come to mind are those of baptism and the Lord’s Supper. My phone is neither smart enough nor is it properly equipped to grant me the grace that comes through those gifts God gives to his church that gathers together in person.

Neither can my phone greet me with the beaming smile and firm handshake of a brother in the faith who is genuinely delighted to see me on Sunday morning (or whenever worship takes place). Nor can my phone provide the hug and consolation of a sister in Christ who is bearing a burden similar to mine. Nor can my phone allow me to slip over to the single mom struggling with her little ones and give her a break by offering to sit with her and help, or step outside with an antsy child in need of a break. Nor can my phone reach out to introduce myself to the new face who showed up that morning. Nor can my phone… you get the picture.

I am not downplaying the blessings we can appreciate through our phones and I am not advocating a “phone fast” that says you can’t or shouldn’t use it as a spiritual aid. All I am offering is a caution that we don’t allow it to replace the local Christian congregation, because it simply can’t do that, no matter how smart it is.

We should not stop gathering together with other believers, as some of you are doing. Instead, we must continue to encourage each other even more as we see the day of the Lord coming” (Hebrews 10:25 GW).

You’re undoubtedly familiar with the K.I.S.S. approach – “Keep It Simple, Stupid” (you may substitute “Silly” for “Stupid” if use of that word is discouraged in your home). The idea behind the approach is pretty straight-forward: we’re better off keeping things simple rather than making them unnecessarily complicated. Generally speaking, the simpler something is, the less risk there is of confusion or error.

Do you suppose it’s possible that there is an avoidance of, or an aversion to, Christianity, because we can make it more complicated than it needs to be? In no way do I mean to marginalize the Bible or imply that doctrine is unimportant. But, to the extent that one fails to see the forest for the trees, maybe a reminder about the simplicity of Christianity is in order. It really isn’t that complicated.

He who has the Son has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life” (1 John 5:12).

There you have it. Or don’t. But what determines whether or not you have it is whether or not you have the Son, Jesus Christ. To have him as Savior is to have life; to not have him is to not have life.

Some balk in disgust that it should be so easy. But I didn’t say it was easy (recall what the Father chose to give up, after all!). If it was easy, I suspect the whole world would be Christian, since “easy” is what we all seem to be chasing. No, I said it was simple. And it is.

Beautifully simple.

There have been and there always will be those who contend that Christianity is dangerous. Proponents of this point of view today provide a number of reasons why. They claim that Christianity has become too involved in politics (I’m not so sure I disagree on this one…). They say that Christianity stifles critical thinking (apparently forgetting that some of the finest critical thinkers throughout history have been Christians). They argue that Christianity impedes freedom of equality (ironic, given that Christianity is the only all-inclusive religion, in that Christ died for all sins of all people). They feel that Christianity                                               (insert others I have undoubtedly missed here).

As a Christian, let me go on the record as saying that I agree, Christianity is dangerous.

However, I must clarify. When I state that Christianity is dangerous, what I mean to say is that Christianity, as our culture continues to allow it to be reshaped and remodeled like some pile of playdoh, is dangerous. This Christianity, however, is a far cry from biblical Christianity.

Christianity is not synonymous with politics.

Christianity is not spirituality.

Christianity is not the power of positive thinking and meditation.

Christianity is not being a good person.

These kinds of “Christianity” are dangerous, and they are dangerous because they all overlook what Christianity is: Jesus Christ. There is no greater danger to Christianity than to remove Jesus Christ from it. Without Jesus Christ there is no Savior. Without a Savior there is no hope. Without any hope there is no life.

Without Jesus Christ, you can have a whole lot of things, but you can’t have Christianity. And, if you aren’t interested in Jesus Christ, well, NOTHING is more dangerous.

 

 

It’s actually much easier this way.

I don’t have to pass myself off as a pseudoscientist, regurgitating the arguments that others have made that are far beyond my comprehension (but consistently referencing them nonetheless, so that I sound like I know what I’m talking about).

I don’t have to lose any sleep over the possibility that what is “conclusive” or “undeniable” or “irrefutable” today may very well turn out to be none of those in another decade or so.

I can pause and simply marvel at the wonder of that which defies any logical or scientific explanation, rather than suppress the internal anguish over not having an answer.

I can actually love and appreciate the gifts of science and discovery more, not less, because they continually heighten my reverence for the One who gave them.

I can direct my thanks and gratitude for the wonder of this world to its Creator, rather than needing to anthropomorphize nature, science, or evolution to express my awe.

Read through Genesis 1 when you have a moment. It’s right there, repeatedly stated, so that you don’t somehow miss it.

And God said… and it was so.”

Honestly, if you are willing to entertain the possibility that the world doesn’t revolve around you, and that there might just be a higher authority, then it isn’t a stretch at all to take Him at his Word and believe that it really is his world.

It’s actually much easier this way.