Struggling through Psalms

I'm currently in the middle of reading the Bible in 90 days. It seems daunting, but it's actually a great way to take a look at the full narrative of scripture. I see things in ways I don't when I'm deeply studying a small section. It is interesting however that I seem to get stuck in different places than most people. For many, Leviticus and Numbers are where they bog down. For me, it's Psalms and Proverbs. Ughhhhhhhhh! Psalms and Proverbs. I am always so tempted to skip over them and get back to the narrative. This time through I'm reading the Message paraphrase and it's still a huge struggle to make it through. Although I will admit that God is honoring my perseverance and throwing me an inspirational bone here and there.

Here is my issue with Psalms and Proverbs. When you read them at this speed you really get a feel for the dominant themes that they share. It breaks down to this simple idea (with a few exceptions). The Psalmists seem to all be saying some form of "Hey God! Remember that we're the good guys and they are the bad guys. You should be blessing us and sending them to the fiery pits of hell." Even the psalms where the author admits to his (or the nation of Israel's) egregious sin, he is still wanting blessing for himself and punishment for those other people. His sins are somehow forgivable, but all those heathens don't get a second (or 532) chance to repent.

Herein lies my fundamental issue with the Psalms and Proverbs. They are both working from at best an incomplete and at worst a faulty understanding of who God is and how he works. This is made obvious by the Gospels, but it's also made pretty obvious by God's original covenant with humanity. He told Abram that he would be blessed to be a blessing, that all nations would be blessed because of his relationship with God.

It is made plain in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, that God is not about blessing the good people and punishing the bad people. In part, this is because there are not good and bad people, there are just people. God, as made clear by Jesus, is about redeeming, restoring, and transforming the lives of all people. Unfortunately not everyone accepts and embraces this gift of salvation, but it is intended for and made available to all people. God's desire is that all of humanity be saved through the redeeming work of the Cross. 

But this is also what helps me appreciate the Psalms. Despite the misinformation, despite the petty vindictiveness, despite the unapologetic nationalism, when a person cries out to God, when any human seeks an audience with the Creator, regardless of the their race, nationality, theology, or mood, God makes himself available. He listens. He cares. He is moved, and he responds. This to me is the hope of the Psalms. Even when we are idiots and misunderstand God, even when our prayers are selfish and sometimes downright evil, even when have everything backwards, God loves us enough to enter into that mess and graciously sort us out. Because I'm not so vain as to suggest that I am beyond making mistakes like the Psalmists. I don't mean to suggest that my theology is perfect. This is why God's word is so amazing. He can take my frustration, disgust, and superiority and use it humble me and draw me closer to him. That is at least one thing that the Psalmists and I can agree on.

Reject the dictator god

Few Americans, given the choice, would ever vote for someone like Hitler, Stalin, or Saddam to run our country. We hold up people like Washington, Jefferson, and Lincoln as the example of wise leadership. We hold in esteem those leaders, like Washington, who when given the chance to grasp control, to wield ultimate power instead trust the people and embrace freedom and choice. When it comes to the administration of the government, the one thing we all seem to agree on is choice. We should have some say in who is in charge, and that person in charge should listen to and care about our thoughts and opinions.

And yet, the god so many of us choose to worship on Sundays has more in common with a heavy-handed dictator like Hitler or Stalin. This god is petty, controlling, and mean. He must have everything his own way. He is a micro-manager who seems more concerned with the insignificant details of my life than he is with the evil and injustice in the world. He has a hair-trigger temper, ready at a moments notice to cast the unbeliever and backslider alike into the fiery pits of hell. We make excuses for his vengefulness like a terrified battered spouse. "Everything happens for a reason." "God is in control." "This must just be his plan for my life." So many of us willingly worship a god who is not interested in our thoughts, feelings, and opinions. We willingly submit to a god who is only interested in our unquestioning loyalty.

Thankfully, this is not the one true God. This is not the God described in the Bible. This is not the God perfectly represented in the person of Jesus. There are countless passages that illustrate how deeply God cares about our thoughts and opinions and is willing to alter his plan because of them. Genesis 18 is a great example of it. But I want to point you to a different passage. Take a look at Mark 7. Here Jesus went looking for some rest, but as always, people find him.

24 Jesus left that place and went to the vicinity of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know it; yet he could not keep his presence secret. 25 In fact, as soon as she heard about him, a woman whose little daughter was possessed by an impure spirit came and fell at his feet. 26 The woman was a Greek, born in Syrian Phoenicia. She begged Jesus to drive the demon out of her daughter.

27 "First let the children eat all they want," he told her, "for it is not right to take the children's bread and toss it to the dogs."

28 "Lord," she replied, "even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs."

29 Then he told her, "For such a reply, you may go; the demon has left your daughter."

30 She went home and found her child lying on the bed, and the demon gone.

If this woman had been raised in an American church, she would have taken Jesus' first reply and slunk away disappointed, but convinced you don't question God. Instead, she calls Jesus on the carpet. She questions him. She challenges his seeming unwillingness to help her. In essence she says, "Wow Jesus. That response doesn't seem very Jesus-like."

And his response? Thou hast doubted the Great and Powerful Oz!!!! You will now burn in brimstone for eternity!!!! Of course not. He changes his mind. He takes her thoughts and feelings into account. He responds with grace and love to her rebuttal. He acknowledges that there is often more faith in questioning than there is in obedience.

This is the God we serve. A God who is loving, graceful, and merciful. Certainly he is holy and just as well. But he is not a dictator. He does not expect, nor does he desire, unquestioning blind obedience. He longs for an intimate, personal relationship. It's only through this relationship, it's only when we know him, when we understand how loving, graceful, and holy he is that we can truly obey and serve.

God loves us. God didn't let anything get in his way in his plan to redeem and restore us. But he also loves us enough to listen to us, to wrestle with us, and sometimes to alter his plans because of us.

In faith, but not in love

I have found that the creative expression of talented people inspires and points me to truth whether that person is creating from a Christian worldview or not. In fact, I am just as likely to have an encounter with Jesus while listening to the brilliant lyrics of Eddie Vedder as I am listening to David Crowder (no disrespect to Mr. Crowder).

Such is the case after my second viewing of the recent film version of Les Miserables. I could ramble for hours about the themes of forgiveness, redemption, and the futility of violence that I see running through the story, but I won't. What struck me this time through was the character of Javert. While I would certainly call him the antagonist of the story, I would not call him the villain. In fact, as I watched him struggle and wrestle with his difficult circumstances it struck me that he had far more in common with Valjean than I had previously realized. Both men must grapple with a response that does not fit into their understanding of the world. After stealing a bag full of expensive silver from the bishop, Valjean is not only shown mercy and compassion by the bishop, but he is given his most valuable possession (silver candle sticks). Valjean expects condemnation and receives grace. After he attempts to betray the French revolutionaries, Javert's life is put into the hands of Valjean. He not only expects to be killed, but seems to want it, to think that he deserves it some how. Instead, he is released. Valjean shows Javert mercy and compassion, when what he expected was vengeance.

The two men remind me of Peter and Judas. Neither men deserve forgiveness. Both men fail, betray, and abandon Jesus. The difference between them is not what they did, but how they responded to grace, what they did with the grace, mercy and compassion of their savior. Peter repented and returned. Judas ran away and took his own life.

As I mentioned earlier, Eddie Vedder is a genius whose words speak truth to my soul. If you aren't familiar with him, pick up a Pearl Jam record and just listen. You can thank me later. But in one particularly profound song (Marker in the Sand) there is a line that reminds me of this struggle. In the song, he talks about people who are, out expanding in a faith but not in love. This is the difference between Valjean and Javert, and it's the difference between people who follow Jesus and religious people. People like Javert don't want to extend grace to others, because when it comes down to it they don't feel like they are worthy of it themselves. And that is the beauty of grace. They don't deserve it. That's what makes it so amazing. People like Valjean understand how unworthy they are of the grace they have received and make it their mission to share that same ridiculous grace with as many people as they can.

Those of us who follow Jesus, those who are attempting to live a life of faith should be out expanding. Our goal should be to reach as many people as possible with the good news. But, our motivation and our method of sharing that message has to be love. If it's just about the faith, just about the rules, just about the regulations, then we are doing it wrong. We must always remember that the good news is just that, GOOD news.

Running to the Chariot

We have been reading through Acts with our small group. It's been all kinds of fun to learn from the early church, from Luke, from each other, and from the inspiration of the Spirit. A couple of weeks ago we were in chapter 8. I've read this particular chapter many times in part because I like the story of Simon the Sorcerer. But it's always the story of Philip and the Ethiopian that grabs me, that draws me in, that challenges me. There are all kinds of great things in that story. But no matter how many times I read it, this moment is what sticks with me.

The Spirit told Philip, “Go to that chariot and stay near it.”    Then Philip ran up to the chariot and heard the man reading Isaiah the prophet. “Do you understand what you are reading?” Philip asked. (Acts 8:29, 30 NIV)

I think this moment pokes at me because it's an area where I consistently fail. I know when the Spirit speaks to me. God has never spoken audibly to me, but I've learned over the years how to recognize his voice and his nudges. Hearing his voice is almost never the problem. Acting on it is my challenge. Acting on it in the way that Philip did. That's what blows me away. He's walking down the road, sees a person with whom he has nothing in common but a desire to engage God through his word. This man is different from Philip in his country of origin, ethnicity, social status, tax bracket, and physical completeness. But notice what the Spirit says to him. "Go to that chariot and stay near it."

The prompting here is not to save the man. Not to convince him of anything. Philip is not asked to do anything but to put himself in the proximity of this man. And what does he do? He runs to the chariot. He doesn't walk. He doesn't make excuses. He doesn't hesitate. He doesn't explain to the Spirit why he can't, shouldn't or won't comply. He runs to the chariot.

I'm convinced that I'm not alone in this affliction. I'm convinced that I am not the only one who struggles to run into the unknown, the uncomfortable, the scary, and the dangerous. I'm convinced that this is our battle. If you have a relationship with Jesus, I would be willing to bet that you recognize the voice of the Spirit. The question is, are you going to run to the chariot or are you going to put your head down, pretend you don't see it, and make some pious, religious sounding reason why you can't or shouldn't.

Jesus, my prayer today is for the courage and strength and obedience to always run to the chariot. Today I make the choice anew to submit my life to you, to set aside my will and to embrace yours, to die to myself so that I can have true life through you. I know that I can run to the chariot no matter how scary it looks because you will be running right with me. Amen.

Who's carrying the handbasket?

"The whole world is going to hell in a handbasket!" I can't tell you how many times I heard this expression growing up. It usually came along with a rant about some kind of sin or deviant behavior that was taking over. And in most cases, it was a behavior that the ranter was not (or in some cases like abortion couldn't be) tempted by. I'm always reminded of this expression when I read Romans 1. Take the last verse of that chapter.

And it’s not as if they don’t know better. They know perfectly well they’re spitting in God’s face. And they don’t care—worse, they hand out prizes to those who do the worst things best!

Yeah! Those [insert pet sin here] are ruining our society. They're destroying the fabric of America. It's time to take this country back for God before all those [insert favorite scapegoat here] take us to hell in a handbasket.

But, if you read Paul's letter the way the original audience would have (rather than stopping at arbitrary chapter markings) then you proceed from this thought right into this one.

Those people are on a dark spiral downward. But if you think that leaves you on the high ground where you can point your finger at others, think again. Every time you criticize someone, you condemn yourself. It takes one to know one. Judgmental criticism of others is a well-known way of escaping detection in your own crimes and misdemeanors. But God isn’t so easily diverted. He sees right through all such smoke screens and holds you to what you’ve done.

 Oh, hold up. You mean it's me? I'm carrying a handbasket too? Wait, I thought it was the, ummm, I mean, but that guy, it was those, but what about all those people who. . .

I love the absolute, brutal honesty that Paul uses in his letters. He stands firm and calls a sin a sin, but he also never lets us think for a minute that because we have entered the forgiveness Jesus offers that we can look down on people who are still trying to figure it out.

I love the simple language Peterson uses in his translation of Paul's letter. "It takes one to know one." Why am I so good at identifying sinners? Because I am the chief among them. And only by the grace of God, the resurrection of Jesus, and the filling of the Holy Spirit is that fact not a death sentence for me. The good news is that it doesn't have to be a death sentence for anyone else either.

God does not have a plan for your life

I loved the show Lost. I thought it was exciting, well-written, complex, and thought-provoking. It tackled many subjects in its six year run that caused people to bring the show into conversations about God, faith, fate, and eternity. Oddly, the one thing that made it most relevant to conversations of faith was the same thing that made the most people angry each week. With every answered question, there were ten new and unanswered. The creators and writers of the show had not just a tolerance for uncertainty, but a deep-seated love of it. They understood that life is not simple, that there are not always answers to our questions, that we must figure out how to live, grow, and adapt in the midst of this uncertainty.

This is what it means to live a life of faith. God will not answer all of your questions. God will not give you a five year plan to follow. God will not lay out the path for you before you begin the journey.

At this point, you might be frustrated. You might feel like I used to the title of this post to troll you, as nothing more than a ploy to get you to click the link. Ok, maybe just a little. But, I have intentionally let you dangle for a bit to test your tolerance for uncertainty. Is this guy a heretic? Is he suggesting that God doesn't care about the individual? Surely he's going to offer an explanation, an exemption, a reason that I'm the exception to the rule. Well, not exactly.

I stand by my statement. If you understand God's plan for your life to be one of a micromanager, one where every detail of your existence is predetermined and waiting for you to walk the path, then I respectfully disagree. In that sense, God does not have a plan for your life. Now can we, in hindsight, see God at work in our lives, in the course of events that have led us to the present, in the decisions that we have made? Of course. If we had made completely different choices and led to a different present, could we look back and see God's hands at work? Of course.

You see, God's plan is so much bigger than your life. God's plan is to redeem, reclaim, and restore all of creation. The way in which God does have a plan for your life is this. Since you are part of creation, you are included in the plan. You are individually invited to be an agent of restoration, a participant in the redemption of all things. Isn't that so much cooler than whether or not God wants you to attend school X or school Y? You get to be part of the advance team. You get to be (if you choose to of course) a conduit of love, grace, and mercy.

I encountered this verse in Romans 11 as I was studying today. I'm convinced that this is God's plan for my life. This is from the Message.

In one way or another, God makes sure that we all experience what it means to be outside so that he can personally open the door and welcome us back in.

This is his plan, his master work. He stands before all of creation, a creation that has chosen to live in rebellion, outside in the cold, away from the blessings of its loving creator, and says, "Welcome home. I had big plans for you in the beginning, and your disobedience hasn't changed them one bit. Let's get to work."

That is God's plan for you. His plan is to lavish on you his life, love, grace, and mercy. His plan is to invite you into a relationship with him that will make you whole and complete. And he can accomplish this plan whether you are in Washington or Timbuktu. What is essential is to answer his call the same way the ancients like Abram, Samuel and Isaiah did, "Here I am."

In Romans it says. . .

I love Paul's letters and yet am supremely intimidated by them. First, Paul is arguably the single most influential missionary and prolific church planter the world has ever known. On top of that, he has this amazing, logical, highly-educated brain that would have served him well as an attorney in 21st Century America. He has a mastery of the Law of Moses, The Prophets, and the Gospel that would make everyone from Billy Graham to John Wesley to Martin Luther feel like a simpleton.

And yet, Paul is humble. He is compassionate. He is loving. He is graceful. He longs not to demonstrate his mental and theological prowess, but to spread the good news that the salvation Jesus brought is for everyone. In this way, Paul is a very of the people kind of guy.

So, as I study through Romans again, I'm imagining that I live in Rome. I'm imagining that this letter is written directly to me, that it was delivered to my house, that I was the one who broke the seal and unrolled the scroll for the first time. I'm also reading it out loud, the way the original recipient certainly did repeatedly in countless gatherings of disciples. I don't do this nearly enough, especially considering how powerful it is when I do. I'm not sure how long I will be here. I suppose until I figure out how to live out what is written.

This time through I am reading both the NIV and The Message paraphrase. The Message is particularly powerful for me when read out loud because it is put into language that is familiar to my ears. As was read the first five chapters this morning, I was stopped in my tracks by verse 4 in chapter 2. Here is the way it is rendered in the Message.

God is kind, but he’s not soft. In kindness he takes us firmly by the hand and leads us into a radical life-change.

For me, that one verse sums up the message of all of Paul's letters. God is not our doting Grandpa who we can manipulate, coerce, and take advantage of. But, neither is he the slave-driving, task-master who is anticipating our failure in order to derive pleasure from punishing us. He is kind and loving and forgiving, but if our encounter with this kindness does not lead us to repentance and radical life-change, then it wasn't his kindness we encountered.

It is also important to note (and Paul hits on it several times just in the first five chapters) that it always happens in this order. Encounter God, lead a changed life. We don't lead a changed life in order to encounter God. We come before him worthless, powerless, filthy, and bankrupt. He welcomes us in our brokenness and fills us with life, meaning, and purpose.

This will be something that I continue to chew on. God is kind, but he is not soft. I hate to admit to how many times I have treated God like he was soft, trying to manipulate and coerce him. I hate how many times I have, not in my words but in my actions, said, "oh, he'll forgive me. it's ok just this once."

God, today I chose to follow you into that radical life-change. I'm so grateful for this gentle strength that you offer me. Today, I embrace life on your terms. Today, I choose to obey, to follow, to acknowledge in my words and actions that you are my King.