YEAR OF DELIVERANCE: soften my heart

I don't know about anybody else, but I feel like the last few years have been years of limited growth and honestly, a bit of struggle.  Looking to the Spirit of God, I'm ready to grow, take back some lost territory, and gain new ground for the glory of God.  I'm ready for some deliverance!  What will it take for 2012 to be a year of deliverance?

Earlier today I was reading the story of Moses and Aaron going before Pharaoh and telling him to let God's people go.  There are many take-aways from this story and I could go on and lose you here, so I've listed my top three picks below.

But here's Pharaoh, king of Egypt, ruling over peace, plenty, and prosperity, and along comes Moses and Aaron saying, "Thus saith the Lord."  The Who?

"You don't get it, do you?" Pharaoh thought - and in so many words said, "I'm god here -- and you think you can tell me what to do?"

Pharaoh's stubbornness cost his people dearly.  It cost them lives that must have been lost when the Nile River turned to blood, and the disease carried by frogs, flies, and gnats.  It cost them misery in all the plagues, loss of possessions as animals died, pain through the plague of boils, and terror in the plague of darkness.  Economically, Egypt was in ruins.  Just before the locusts landed, Pharaoh's own cabinet nearly revolted saying, "Don't you realize Egypt is already in shambles?"  Their frustration level was so high they were willing to say that to the absolute ruler of the land - their own version of the Exalted, Beloved Leader.

But Pharaoh would not be moved.

The children of Israel doubted at first, blamed Moses and Aaron and nearly threw them out. 

Pharaoh wanted to throw them out, and it was probably a source of great frustration to him that he couldn't.  Just before God's final plague he told them that the next time Moses forced an audience with him, it would be his last.


Pharaoh cost himself dearly - He lost a lot politically among his inner circle, and it seems that he lost the natural admiration and respect of his people.  The people of Egypt began to side with the slaves of Israel which had long since become a major engine in their nation's economy.  They respected Moses and many of them may have desired a coup, but they didn't dare say so.

They still obeyed Pharaoh, but I imagine they did so out of fear and duty only, with no love and pride intermingled as they probably had done for Pharaoh's father and grandfather.  We know from Scripture that his hardness of heart cost him his firstborn son, whom he cherished above anything or anyone else.

A number of years ago I was walking through a very dark time in my life, and I was trying to discern what the Lord was trying to teach me.  Finally, a good friend whom I regarded as a spiritual leader in my church said to me, "You know, Andrew, sometimes God brings us through hard times to teach us things, and sometimes hard times come upon us because of the hard hearts and bad choices of people around us." 

We - I'm at the top of the "we list" - do well to consider the effects of our heart condition and the choices we make as a result of where our hearts and heads are at (sorry, Miss Bell for ending a sentence in a preposition - it's not the first nor will it be the last time!).  It can have great effect on all around us - whether they're close to us or not - whether we're aware of them or not. 

Lord, work in my heart.  Help me to be open to You - and if I hear Your voice thundered through a prophet or spoken in stillness in my heart - give me grace to recognize, listen, and immediately obey.  May my heart be softened to You and to those around me, and may my heart condition be a source of nurture, not destruction or even neutrality.  May I be a source of blessing to those closest to me all the way to those furthest away.  In the Name of Jesus I ask that by your grace this year be a year of deliverance!  Amen. 


TOP THREE TAKEAWAYS FROM EXODUS 4-11

1. How God must feel about slavery in general and government-sanctioned oppression in particluar
2. God's faithfulness in keeping His promises even though it seems like He's forgotten over hundreds of years
3. God's purposes being fulfilled even under adverse circumstances.
• I have often wondered about God's reasoning for moving Isaac and his boys to Egypt only to end in slavery three hundred year later (my chronology may be off a little...). Yet, they didn't have the resources to grow in the wilderness, and here, with the vast riches of Egypt at their disposal, the children of Israel could begin to become the nation of Israel, even in bondage. Obviously that didn't excuse Egypt and specifically Pharaoh for enslaving Israel, and that doesn't mean that slavery and oppression should be sanctioned anywhere by God's people. But, as Joseph said, "You meant it for evil, but God meant it for good."

 

 

CARELESS VESPERS

One of the great truths of Scripture that I have a hard time grasping is God’s jealousy for His people. I have to admit, the concept has become somewhat easier to grasp, though, as my daughters have gone into their teen years and become interested in boys. I remember when I was the one they were most concerned with pleasing. They laughed at my jokes. They noticed when I did special things for them. They thought about telling me first when something good or funny happened to them. I mattered.



Now old Dad has been relegated to the back seat, if he’s even allowed in the car at all. OK, so I’m overstating the “Woe is me,” stuff – but don’t tell the girls that, please! They don’t feel bad enough about this yet – nor will they, actually, until they have kids of their own (and in their case, they won’t feel it as acutely unless they have sons, right?).


I have other friends who have had similar experiences, but sadly, it’s been with their spouses, not their children… so the changes in relationship are not part of a natural progression into maturity, but they are actually betrayals as the spouse finds love in the arms of someone else. I have shared in the tears of some of these friends, have heard them express deep feelings of helplessness as they watch the affections of their spouse turn to another and have also heard them express their heartache, anger, and even jealousy.


I find myself being uncomfortable with the thought of jealousy. And jealousy can be wrong. Sometimes I struggle with jealousy… I would like to have so-and-so’s voice; he sings effortlessly and doesn’t have a big vibrato – everybody loves hearing him sing, and he can play by ear, too! Or, I wish I had so-and-so’s money! I should be as well of as he! Or, if only I had his ability to please people. Look how they fawn over him – and I do twice as much as he does; it’s not fair! Those feelings of jealousy lead to coveting and animosity – those feelings are wrong.


Yet as I reflect I realize that there is a righteous form of jealousy. I see it reflected, albeit imperfectly, in the friends that I have described above. If a relationship is rightly yours, either through blood or covenant, and you are losing that relationship to another, then jealousy can be a righteous response.


And this is the kind of jealousy God expresses for His people here in Jeremiah. It is the kind of jealousy alluded to by the writer of Hebrews. God won a relationship with the children of Israel by covenant with their father Abraham, and again by covenant made with Moses and through Moses in the giving of the Law to all the people of Israel.


In the opening lines of the ten commandments God Himself admits to this jealousy. And He instructs that there be no other gods in the picture. God is to be God alone – loved and worshiped not just as the supreme God, but as the only God. For truly, you can’t serve two gods.


So, here are God’s people – with whom He has made a lasting covenant, and whom He loves deeply – standing in His house plotting against Him. Oh, sure, they brought what they were supposed to bring – meat. But they didn’t bring the other things they were supposed to bring – the love of Him with all their heart, mind, and strength. Instead, their hearts were elsewhere, and their minds were devising ways to use their strength in the worship of another god. They had no more joy in the worship of God – the One who brought them up out of Egypt, the One who sustained their great-grandparents in the wilderness by giving them manna to eat – the One who went before them into the Promised Land and allowed them to settle there as a victorious, prosperous people.


Worshiping Him was old hat! I wonder if the priests Levites explored innovations in worship style and technology in an effort to keep the next generation engaged. Or were they becoming so enamored with false gods that they didn’t care anymore, either? I wonder if they issued surveys to make sure that everyone felt like their needs were being met in every worship service. Were the traditional worship people happy? Were the young families happy? Were the perpetually grumpy happy?


Who cares if they were happy – they were allowing their affections to drift! They were allowing themselves to find joy in wickedness; in the very thing that was most important to God. They were allowing their hearts to worship another god. They were carelessly whispering of their love for another in the house of the One for whom they should have had a fervent love. And when they left the Lord’s house, they found their trysting place at vespers in Baal’s temple and burned incense in worship to an idol.


So, God, the One who planted His people, the One who caused them to be fruitful – the One who said they were beautiful – must now uproot and reshape.


That is the depth of God’s love, that it is expressed with such holy jealousy. And, how much more right does God have to be jealous of His people of the New Covenant? He has not only made a covenant with generations past, but He draws each of His children personally into their own individual relationship with Him through the blood of His only begotten Son Jesus Christ. Because of His lavish grace, those of us who have trusted Christ for our salvation are now “His workmanship.” How much more a right does He have to be jealous for us?


How much more of a right does God have to be jealous for those who claim to be part of “the Church” – whether they have actually come to Him on the merits of His blood and righteousness or not? Would He not want a pure Bride for His Son, a Bride with complete, single-hearted love for Him?


Don’t let His jealousy for you cause you to recoil, but instead, understand that He loves you! He earnestly and perfectly desires that love be given in return, even as we imperfectly desire a return on the love investment we place in others.  Let us love Him supremely, obey Him completely and worship Him solely (give Him "sole worship").

15 "What is My beloved doing in My temple as she works out her evil schemes with many? Can consecrated meat avert [your punishment]? When you engage in your wickedness, then you rejoice." 16 The LORD called you a thriving olive tree with fruit beautiful in form. But with the roar of a mighty storm He will set it on fire, and its branches will be broken. 17 The LORD Almighty, who planted you, has decreed disaster for you, because the house of Israel and the house of Judah have done evil and provoked Me to anger by burning incense to Baal.

- Jeremiah 12:15-17

“He is jealous for me… loves like a hurricane, I am a tree…”

- “How He Loves”; John Mark McMillan

“…Let us be thankful, and so worship God acceptably in reverence and awe, for ‘Our God is a consuming fire.’”

- Hebrews 11:28b & 29

“Cast every idol from its throne, for Christ is God, and Christ alone: To God all praise and glory.”

 - “Sing Praise To God Who Reigns Above”; Johann J. Schutz

Post-Father's Day thoughts

I am thankful that we made it through yesterday’s worship service with no loss of life or limb! It was VBS Sunday. We had 30+ kids on the platform singing VBS songs and reading a little script summarizing the week – and we showed some slides about VBS. Student Praise Team led worship (they’re getting good!), Doxa youth choir sang for the last time before summer break. We updated people on the organ fund being at 75% and announced this summer’s Wesleyan Roundup which will be in August this year – August 13th – and will feature a Western-themed variety showing starring our own folks. And… it was Father’s Day. We had a good time with that – showed “The Dad’s Life” video from church on the move – everyone laughed; we sang the wonderful hymn “Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father…” and Pastor Richard preached a good message for father’s day. Miraculously, our combined service which started at 10 was over by 11:20! (Just as I laid it out, thank you very much…)

Every Father’s Day – every June, really – I think of my Dad. I was almost thirteen in June, 1980 when he died in a swimming accident. We were on vacation in Nags Head/ Cape Hatteras, NC. There was a riptide which locals say will eventually wash you back to shore if you don’t panic and fight against it. The problem is, as you’re being swept out to sea, you panic. Dad was a good swimmer, but he panicked and he drowned. His cries for help will haunt me for the rest of my life. We were all in the water except for my little sister. By the time some men with life-rafts could get him on the beach, Dad was certainly gone.

I’m sure my dad had his flaws. I remember that, as a boy on the cusp of his teenage years, I was beginning to see the cracks in Dad’s armor and was starting to take issue with some of his ways and ideas. As I recall, my last conversation with him was an argument; nothing real serious, but an argument nonetheless. But time has a way of washing away common faults and creating an ideal heroic, and that is how I remember Dad.

He was a thoughtful man who unquestionably loved his wife. He used to call Mom many cute names, but the one I remember particularly was “Dolly.” And my sister was “Miss Muffett” (or some variation of that – “Muffy”, etc.) or his own term “Tiny Treasure”. I don’t remember my nicknames, but that’s OK. I do remember wrestling with him on the floor, going to church with him (every time the doors were open), sitting with him during “adult conversations”, and of course, working with him on the farm. Any good work ethic I have can be credited to my Dad.
On occasions when I’m exhausted from work, especially from physical exertion, I recognize it as a “good tired” because of him. He milked 80 cows a day and had a great mind for anything, including farming. It irritates me to hear city people talk of farming as if it is unskilled labor. My Dad had two degrees from the Ohio State University – both in agriculture and animal husbandry. He knew how to take care of his livestock and he did so with great care.

If you have 80 milking cows, you have many more on the farm – usually 40 or so “dry” cows, at least that many heifers, and a bull or two in a pen – and maybe 20 or so in a freezer so you can breed your high producers with other high producers. Yep, Dad knew all about that and took great care to breed his animals well so he had a herd of high-yielding Holsteins. And he knew every cow by their face and their udder (the cows stood on raised platforms on either side of the milking parlor, so that their udders were at eye level).

One of Mom’s favorite stories of Dad as it relates to his care for cows was when he returned after an absence. He went on a mission trip to Guatemala. During that trip an uncle who was running the farm in dad’s absence had been injured in a silo auger (the first of many miraculous survivals for Uncle Les) and, in the aftermath of his injury, in my Dad’s absence, all the famers from church gathered ‘round and took shifts doing chores and taking care of the cows. When Dad returned, the cows greeted him like a hero, following him around the barn, mooing, even licking him with their rough sand-paper tongues. It was quite a ticker-tape parade, to hear my Mom talk about it. I guess I was at school, ‘cause I don’t remember it as vividly as the way Mom tells it!

Dad was not just a good farmer, but he was a faithful Christian. He was always trying to learn more of the Word and grow in his relationship with Jesus. The milkhouse radio was tuned, permanently, to the Moody Radio station from Cleveland, OH. Well – there was a brief hiatus to a new all-music formatted Christian radio station, but that hiatus lasted maybe two days. In addition to music, Moody radio featured all the great Bible teachers – we rode the Bible bus with Dr. Jay Vernon McGee, gained insights for living with Chuck Swindoll, laughed with Dr. Howard Hendricks, and got inspired with preachers like Dr. EV Hill.

Dad took Mom up to Moody Evening School, an extension program in Cleveland, and they went at least once a week. One semester they made a family project out of a report for Proverbs. We had cartoon characters like a hobo named Pa Verty.

Dad loved the Lord and was zealous for good teaching of the Word of God. We left our family church because the preaching was not very strong and the denomination’s hierarchy began making pronouncements with which he disagreed. He wasn’t content to be a spectator in a church. He had a great voice, so it was natural for him to use his talent in the church choir, but he also sought ways to serve the church through his spiritual gifts as well.

He was a great community man as well, serving on the local board of education. As vice president, it was one of his duties to open the public school board meeting with Bible reading and prayer. Those were the days! He also sang in the community, in a barbershop quartet for a while, and then in a mixed gospel quartet which sang in various churches.

So as I think about my own family I give thanks for the example my Dad was to me. I know he would LOVE his granddaughters and be enraptured with his grandson. He would probably dote on all three quite a bit on the one hand, while trying to help them see the value of working on the other… we’re still working on chores in our house. Sometimes I wish we were on a farm, but not enough to actually go buy a cow. I just "have" them every now and then.

I wonder what Dad would say to them as they enter different phases of their lives. What, for instance, would he have said when Bu was cast in Roll Bounce? What would he think of Sizakele’s first boyfriend? How would he encourage them to do well in school? What would he say to Dumisani? What would he do to help nurture their spiritual lives? As I reflect on these things, I realize in a fresh way the incredible privileges I have of being a Dad… God, give me strength, humility, and faithfulness to mirror not just my earthly Dad, but my heavenly Father, in the lives of my kids and my wife. Amen.

Grace and Sainthood

"I don't think I like that hymn," she said. "I think it's offensive to sing that I was blind but now I see."

I had suggested singing the hymn "Amazing Grace" at her mother's funeral.

I never thought I would actually be in a real life situation like this. I am sure my jaw dropped involuntarily.

My senior pastor sensed my befuddlement, and took over the conversation with "Oh? I thought you might not like the words 'that saved a wretch like me.'"

The daughter paused and said, "Yes, I really don't like those words."

With a twinkle in his eye, he shared the history of the hymn - that the author was a slave ship captain and identified himself as a wretch because of all he had done before coming to Christ. The daugther, pleased to hear the history of the hymn, softened but still didn't feel that the hymn was appropriate for her mother's funeral service.

History or no history, I am thankful for amazing grace, that a wretch like me could become a saint. Scripture tells us that this grace qualifies us to share in the inheritance of the saints (Colossians 1:12). It reminds me of the line from an old gospel hymn: that I a child of hell should in His image shine. (Here's a cool modern setting of this hymn.)

I'm not likely to be beatified or beautified, but I have been saved by grace and (even though sometimes it's hard to see) am being made in the image of Christ by the work of the Holy Spirit in me. This is the work of God, and I stand in awe of His divine, indescribable love.

Battle of Wills

Yes, it has begun. Dumisani turned three yesterday, and his mother and I have decided "this is the year." Poor boy - he gets no free passes... OK, fewer than he did when he was two and we weren't sure that he understood what we were saying to him. Over the last couple months we have become convinced that he actually does understand lots more than he's given credit for understanding. :)

So what are some of our goals for him this year? Well, potty training is obvious. Another big deal is getting him to expand his eating horizons beyond bacon in the morning and only neutral colors for lunch and supper (chicken, pasta, hamburger, rice, chips, and cheese - glorious cheese). So today it began. He wanted more bacon for breakfast. I said he could if he ate one bite of toast. You would have thought I told him he would never hold drumsticks again! He cried and cried. He immediately abandoned the idea of wanting more bacon, but I was determined that he should eat one bit of toast. Christina was only too happy to see if I could win the battle.

Soon, the scene in Dining Stadium's battle of the wills deteriorated to this: one minuscule bite of white toast remained on the plate of a desperate, crying three-year-old. Tears were streaming down his face as he demanded to be allowed to get "down." I got some reading material and hunkered down.

Realizing he was unable to convince me to release him, he called for his Mommy. Then his sister Bu came into the room. "Bu," called the forlorn toddler, to no avail. Twenty-five minutes went by. Grandma walked by and announced she was headed for the shower. "I hope you're finished before I am," she called said in a sing-song voice. Progress! He picked up the toast and took it to his mouth. He actually nibbled away a small crumb from his tiny bite-sized piece of toast.

At last his bigger sister Sizakele arose from her slumber and made her way into the room. "Geh-lay" he called out. Alas, he got a more sympathetic response from Bu. Forty-five minutes had passed. Another nibble was taken at the piece, making it about 50% smaller than when the battle began.

After an hour, Grandma came through - showered, fully clothed, hair done. Dumisani was still in his breakfast chair. Sixty minutes passed.

Finally, the took the rest of the piece to his mouth. I helped him pop it in, and we did a big dance together - he ate his toast and I let him get "down." The battle only took an hour and twenty-two minutes.

But that's not all.. there was the Green Bean Battle tonight. Aunt Sarah got her nephew a special plate called "Food Face". The supper menu was mac and cheese and green beans (and a tossed salad for us old people). I gave Mr. Food Face a green bean mustache and a head full of mac and cheese hair. Mr. Food Face was eaten bald twice and when there was a request for more mac and cheese I suggested that he eat his green beans. Again, a response equal to me suggesting that I blow up his favorite little Ohio State football. So, to make his choices clearer I cut a small piece of green bean for him (about 5 millimeters long)He cried for his Mommy who came and cut his tiny piece of green bean in half. After a brief 15-minute standoff, not willing to put everyone through another hour-plus ordeal, I grabbed half of the tiny bite and "encouraged" it into my son's mouth. Then we all gave him wild applause while I put half-a spoonful of mac-and-cheese on Mr. Food Face's forehead. After he ate more mac and cheese, he picked up the second half of the green bean bite and stuck it in his mouth, to more (and more enthusiastic) applause. He spent an hour or so after dinner saying "I ate green!"

I'm not sure he gets cause and effect yet, but so far the score is Daddy 2, Dude 0. And the second score resulted in him realizing that it's ok to eat green. We shall overcome!

What Am I Passing?

When I have the time I love to play with my son. Last week we hung out in the backyard, as we often do, and he discovered a long dried out reed that makes for a long, light, and yet surprisingly durable pole. Since this discovery, we've played a little "baseball" with it and a little tug-o-war, but his favorite thing to do is what he's doing with it here in this picture, kind of twirling it like a baton, like a band drum major.

My Dad was the drum major of his high school band and when he went to OSU he was a cheerleader - he got to catch all the girls. :) I like to use batons, too - conductors' batons. My son waves his arms like a conductor when he hears certain music - especially an instrumental version of the Star-Spangled Banner. On days when the kitchen radio is on at noon Christina gets to observe this. I guess in many ways, the nut doesn't fall far from the tree.

As I saw my son play with his "baton" I thought of the kind of baton one passes to another in a relay, and began to think about what I'm passing on to my son. What do I want to pass on to him? What do I not want to pass on to him?

That's easier to identify, I think... I do not want to pass on to him my own stupidity, my own insensitivities, my ability to do things the hard way, always.

I thought about Moses and Joshua and Elijah and Elisha. What would have happened if Joshua had become obsessed with Moses' staff and not Moses' mission? What if Elisha wanted Elijah's mannerisms instead of a double portion of the Spirit that rested upon Elijah?

I don't want to pass on my preferences and style - my penchants and idiosyncrasies... that doesn't mean I smile when he or his sisters do stuff like I do. But I sometimes grimace for the same reason.

No, I don't necessarily want to pass on a physical or temporal baton to any of my children. Instead, what I want to pass on is the power of God which I desire to be at work in my life as well as theirs. I want to pass on the mission I should be on: seeking first His kingdom and His righteousness, pressing on to know the Lord and allow His reflection to be seen in me.

More than style, more than perfect conducting patterns or a sport or a family tradition - I want my son and daughters to know and love my Lord and experience His power and grace in their lives. May it be so.