There is an old joke about a church that invited a visiting pastor to speak. The church secretary called him to ask the title of his sermon, and he very pompously announced that he would be speaking about “Justification by Faith, and Not of Works.” He was astonished to find, when he arrived to preach, that his pronouncement had been misinterpreted. The sign outside read, “Come this Sunday– Just a Vacation by Faith, and No Work!”
Christians often give the impression, and sometimes operate under the false belief, that we are on vacation– permanently; that our lives are, or should be, ones of carefree enjoyment and counting our blessings. We say things like “Let, go, and Let God!”; “This world is not my home!”, and “Won’t God Do It!” We wait for God or someone else to “fix” the problems around us, saying that “I’m praying about it.” It’s not wrong to say any of these things in context– we SHOULD let go of our needless worry and our constant running after the things of this world. We should remember that our citizenship is in Heaven. We should remember that it is God working all things together for good, and that “He who began a good work (in us) will be faithful to complete it.” And prayer should always be the first step we take. But that doesn’t excuse us from action. The Bible never paints a picture of saints on vacation. We have a race to run, seeds to plant, and battles to fight. We are not tourists in our neighborhoods and communities. We have a job to do. God gave us hands, and feet, and voices, and brains. He intends that we use them for his service.
We must remember this in our prayer life, as well. We need to “carry everything to God in Prayer,” the little things, the tough things, the awkward things. We must speak words of truth and encouragement, and challenge, to ourselves as well as others. We must not grow weary of doing good. God has promised an abundant life, with an easy yoke and rest for our souls. He promises to strengthen and encourage us in the work we do. Best of all, he promises that we will be “Justified” by our faith in HIS finished work. Our work will not be in vain, and our faith will be rewarded– not with a splendid vacation, but with eternal life with our Creator. Now that’s a trip worth working for!
There is an old comedy/vaudeville gag, where a character enters a stately home, or an office, or arrives at an important event. They are greeted by a “straight man” character, who tells them to “walk this way”. The “straight man” then turns and begins walking in a manner that uses exaggerated mannerisms. The comedic character doesn’t just follow in the general direction of the other character– s/he imitates the exaggerated mannerisms as well.
In the last of three prayers from the song, “Day by Day” (see this past Monday and Wednesday), I want to explore how to “follow Thee more nearly.”
I have this quibble with the song lyrics– I know that “nearly” rhymes with “clearly” and “dearly”, but it is not grammatically correct, as it implies that I almost, not quite, but nearly want to follow Jesus, instead of saying that I want to follow Him more closely, or become a better reflection of His character. That said, I sometimes think that I fall into the comedic trap of thinking that “walk this way” merely means following Christ with exaggerated mannerisms– I follow “more nearly” when I should be following more closely.
Years ago, a good friend of mine suggested that I read a book called “God On a Harley” (Review and summary here) It is a fable, and an interesting read. I don’t recommend it for theological content (the Christ it presents is more of a New-Age life coach, not a Messiah), but I’m glad I read it for two reasons: It challenged my conventional view of Jesus, and it challenged the way I thought about discipleship. At the time I was reading the book, I was also considering making some big changes in my life– changing careers, moving away from my home town, and trusting God to be “sufficient” in my singleness and lack of guaranteed income.
When we talk or think about Jesus’ time on Earth, we generally focus on His birth, His miracles, His death, and His resurrection. We don’t usually think of His everyday life…where He ate or slept or how He lived. If He were to walk among us today, He wouldn’t appear like the paintings we see– flowing long blond hair (which has always been inaccurate), white robe and sandals. He might wear a T-shirt and jeans, ride the bus or subway train, and hang out at Starbucks or the corner convenience store. Jesus didn’t live in a “holy huddle.” And, though He famously walked on water, He mostly walked the streets. He lived and walked and ate and spent His days among ordinary people–in fact, it was His willingness to eat with and talk to the marginalized, the forgotten, the ostracized people of Him time, that got Him in trouble with the religious leaders and those in power.
I don’t think Jesus in our time would be a tattooed, beer swilling, biker– but I’m convinced that He would be found sharing a story or a pizza with one; and with the kinds of people many of His “followers” would shun. The Jesus I want to follow “more nearly” is Holy, but He is not “Holier-than-thou.” I can’t follow Jesus more nearly if I’m following an image that only exists in a picture or my self-righteous imagination. In my youth, I had a picture of what “following Christ” looked like– but it was more about following expectations and selfish desires– successful career, marriage, giving to the “right” charities, becoming a pillar of the community. There is nothing wrong with any of those things, but if God calls me to serve in humble (even humiliating) ways, doing thankless tasks, and spending time, not helping the needy at my convenience, but truly serving– pouring out my time and my heart until only His strength keeps me going–I have learned the joy and honor that transcends anything I once imagined.
I’m not a biker, but I love the image of Jesus on a motorcycle, asking me to come along for a ride. If I want to follow Him “more nearly,” I couldn’t come up with a better metaphor. If Jesus came and asked me to ride off with Him on a Harley, several things would happen that relate to discipleship:
First, I have to commit. You can’t “sort of” ride along — you either get on the bike or you stay behind. You might know all about the motor, you might know how to ride, you might know the traffic laws, you might even watch a video of someone riding, but you won’t experience the horsepower under you, the wind in your face, the road slipping away behind you. The same is true of the Christian life. You can know about God; own a Bible– even memorize it; you can sing God’s praises, all without experiencing a relationship with Him. But you’ll never know the full power of His grace and acceptance until you commit.
Part of that commitment is to be willing to go when and where He’s going…you can’t go on the ride and stay at home. You can’t go two hours after He does. And that brings me to–
Trust! You won’t get on the bike if you don’t trust His ability to drive and His wisdom in knowing how and where to go. Once you’re on the bike, hanging on from behind, you can’t see all of the road ahead. You can’t steer or hit the brakes. In my own experience, I ended up leaving teaching after seven years with no “safety net.” I had no job waiting in the wings, no money saved up, and no “plan” other than to take whatever honest work I could find and follow God’s leading. I learned by experience that I can trust God’s ways to be better than mine; better than my expectations!
Riding together takes teamwork. Just because God is doing the driving and steering doesn’t mean that I just sit back and watch the scenery (though I can do a lot of that, too). If I’m not paying attention at curves, intersections, stops, turns, etc., I can throw everything off-balance.
Riding together, with my arms wrapped around Him is the closest I can “follow” Jesus. It’s not about what I know, or what I can “do” for God– it’s choosing to be in a deepening relationship with Him. As I live with Him, listen to Him, and trust Him, the knowing and doing will come naturally.
I want to follow with abandon– not just to walk several steps behind, or wander in His general direction, or watch what He’s doing from a distance. I want to hang on and share the adventure. That’s the way I want to “walk” with Him. That’s my prayer, “Day by Day.”
How can I love Jesus more than I already do? If I can love him more, does that mean that I don’t love Him enough? That I don’t really love Him as much as I think I do? That I love Him the wrong way? How can I “love thee more dearly…day by day”
I want to explore the second prayer in the folk rock song “Day by Day” from the musical “Godspell” (see my last post). When I write about pursuing prayer, this is a major focus of the pursuit– to develop my love for Jesus. But there’s more to it than just spending more time, or even “better” time in prayer.
I love my husband, and that love grows over the years– not because we are in an eternal “honeymoon” period, where life is rosy and all I know about him is the wonderful image I’ve built up–but because in living with him, working with him, even struggling with him, I learn to value who he really is. I learn about qualities I never knew he had. I learn to trust him and respect his judgment; I learn about the deepest part of his heart that he only shares with those closest to him. And even though I learn about his faults, I see him desiring to be the best that he can be. In his turn, my husband does the same with me– learning my strengths and weaknesses. Together we learn how to work together to strengthen and support each other. We even learn how to argue better!
But we all know marriages (and no marriage is immune) where doubt, distrust, disdain, and despair creep in. The very qualities that attracted us in the beginning become sore spots that tear us apart. The joy is swallowed up in little hurts that go unresolved; little misunderstandings that grow into lengthy silences and slammed doors. Struggles that should bring us together cause us to run to separate corners. Our feelings change, our hopes are dashed, and our relationship crumbles
Relationships require trust–if I say that I love God, but I don’t trust Him, I’m not being honest with myself. If I pray to Him, but I don’t really think He’s listening; if I read His word but make excuses for my continued disobedience–I don’t really love Him. I may idolize Him, even worship Him. But I don’t really love Him.
Unlike a marriage partner, family member, or close friend, God’s love for us never changes. We never have to pray that Jesus should love US more dearly. It’s impossible. The same love that spoke the universe into being and designed you to be the awesome and unique person you are, is the same love that stretched out his arms so they could be nailed to the cross– the same love that calls out to you no matter what you’ve done or who you are and offers you peace, joy, and rest. Loving Jesus isn’t a matter of measuring how I feel about Him from day to day, but spending each day learning to know Him better for who He is and not just what He has done or what He can do for me. The prayer should be for me to really learn better how to honor Him, how to trust Him, how to obey Him, praise Him, listen to Him, and walk close to him.
In the Broadway musical, Godspell, there is a simple ballad, “Day By Day,” in which the singer(s) express a desire to be closer to Jesus. Day By Day/YouTube There are three “prayers”– 1) to see thee more clearly; 2) Love thee more dearly, and 3) follow thee more nearly. I have heard various opinions and critiques of the musical, from the use of clown makeup and vaudeville tunes, to the marginal grammar of this song. But I’d like to spend some time digging in to the three simple prayers.
Today, I want to look at (literally) the first prayer– “to see thee more clearly”. There is one prayer, but I think it can be broken down into two parts.
First, I want to SEE God. God is Spirit–an invisible essence– and yet he manifests himself in a million different ways all around us. God is in the inky, endless blackness of a moonless night, and in the vibrant colors of spring blossoms; in the glaring reflection of the sun off the lake, or the gray and palpable mist over the meadow. He is in the wrinkled face of my neighbor, and the exuberant smile of a toddler, and the beauty of a horse running or an eagle soaring. But I can see all of this and more and still not see God. I can focus on the creation and miss the creator. I can focus on the beauty and learn nothing of the artist. I can see the amazing variety of people in the world– skin tones and eye shapes, facial expressions, and body language, dimples and hairstyles and nose-wrinkling, and hand-wringing, and miss the Love of God for each one.
Sadly, I can sing this prayer, pray for insight, and still miss seeing God. I can trample His creation, dismiss His presence, and hate the people He loves enough to die for; people who bear the stamp of His image.
And I want to see Him “more clearly”–I want to see him as he really is, and not as I imagine him to be. We live in an age of glossy retouched photos of models and celebrities; we “see” their image, without knowing what they truly look like, and without knowing anything about who they really are inside. In many ways, God is only slightly less invisible than the real people around us. How many people do we ignore in a day’s time? How many do we glance at, only to get stuck on a single detail (a hair on their sweater, or something caught in their teeth, or a receding hairline or blotchy face). How many people surprise us by not being like the image they project? I don’t want to see a Photoshop Jesus; a glossy, smiling image of someone who says only what I want to hear, and looks like nothing ever touches him. I want to see the Jesus who wept over the death of his friend; the Jesus who laughed with delight as he talked with children; the Jesus whose eyes were full of compassion even as he was dying on the cross. I want to see the Living Word of God.
Jesus is close– closer than we think. I want to spend today seeing him more clearly.
Baseball season is off to a great start! I love baseball, and I love word-play, so it’s probably no surprise that I really love the Abbot and Costello routine, “Who’s on First?” (watch here)
The idea behind the famous routine is that Abbot is trying to explain the positions on the baseball team, but the players’ names lead to all sorts of needless confusion. You don’t really have to know a lot about baseball to be entertained by the comedy routine, but the more you do know, the funnier it gets. Baseball depends on coordinated team effort– knowing who is playing where can make the difference between spectacular plays and disasters– both offensively and defensively. But as much as I would love to talk about both baseball and comedy today, I really want to use baseball as a metaphor for prayer.
Prayer is very personal, especially confessional prayer, but often it is also communal and a coordinated team effort. Every player (pray-er) wants to play our best, and we are gifted for certain positions on the “team.” Some of us are great at pop-ups– catching people “in the moment” and praying with them, sharing their burdens and joys with concise sentence prayers. Some are sluggers– prayer warriors who “knock it out of the park.” Some are outfielders, patiently persistent in praying for the lost, and ready to chase down a line drive or jump up to make the save. Some are basemen– praying to keep the enemy from gaining ground, or catchers, defending home base from all attempts to score. Some are good at bunting–providing the necessary support and sacrifice so that someone else can advance. And some are master pitchers–crafting prayers that strike out or even shut-out the enemy. Our coach, our mascot, our general manager and MVP? The Almighty, Triune God! He knows our strengths, weaknesses, and how we can improve our performance and standing. He also wants to help our team become closer and stronger. After all, baseball is wonderful, but Christian living is even better– it has eternal consequences!
When we ask, in relation to prayer, “Who’s on First,” we need to remember a few things:
Always listen to the coach!
Remember you are not alone.
PRAY to win!
Look out for and support your teammates.
Each inning is a new beginning– don’t live in the last inning.
Don’t let the current score determine your play.
Don’t let the other team’s players or their fans take you “off your game.”
(Spoiler alert)– We are the champions!
Let’s get suited up and ready to take the field for today’s game…after all, you or I may be on first!
God knows our innermost thoughts, wishes, and needs. So why do we pray? We’re not telling God something he doesn’t already know. He asks us to seek him, though he is omnipresent. He tells us to knock, and the door will be opened, yet he also says he stands and the door and knocks. Is this another Bible mystery? An oxymoronic enigma?
I don’t think so– I think it is a case of God laying out some ground rules of relationships– his with us, us with him, and even us with each other. God is spirit, but he ask us to build dwelling places where he can meet with us– temples, tabernacles, churches. He wants to abide, to live in relationship and companionship. Ultimately, he offers to dwell in each of us. But he has created each of us as a unique being. And just like a unique building, we have walls and windows and doors. When we reach our eternal dwelling place, this will still be so. We will be changed, purified, sanctified, and glorified, but our souls will not be subsumed or merged into a single temple or a single “soul.” Heaven is not like Nirvana. God is eternally God and we are eternally his creation. Living in communion is not the same as merging or evolving into something not ourselves. We remain uniquely individual, and as such, we need to learn to take initiative to open our doors and windows– to interact, to serve, and to honor each other.
Have you ever been blindsided by someone who expected you to read their mind? You know they are hurt and angry, but you find out later (sometimes much later!) that they wanted you to comment on their new hairstyle, or they expected you to ask them out for coffee. Maybe you know the pain of being on the other end– wishing someone would notice your weight loss or ask about your day. God wants us to learn to reach out, to ask, seek, and knock, instead of isolating ourselves behind locked doors. We are to be active, not passive, about noticing others, sharing with and including others, and serving others. But we are to do it in love and humility– with grace and mercy and love, not with bullhorns, fists, or combat boots.
God is the Almighty one– yet he stands at the door and knocks. He could barge through our stubbornness and rebellion, and drag us kicking and screaming to the altar. He could tear down the walls of isolation and storm crush our pretentious justifications and excuses. But he stands, waiting for us to open the door, and seek his face. The one who spoke the universe into being waits for us to begin the conversation!
3 If anyone teaches a different doctrine and does not agree with the sound words of our Lord Jesus Christ and the teaching that accords with godliness, 4 he is puffed up with conceit and understands nothing. He has an unhealthy craving for controversy and for quarrels about words, which produce envy, dissension, slander, evil suspicions, 5 and constant friction among people who are depraved in mind and deprived of the truth, imagining that godliness is a means of gain. 6 But godliness with contentment is great gain, 7 for we brought nothing into the world, and we cannot take anything out of the world. 8 But if we have food and clothing, with these we will be content. 9 But those who desire to be rich fall into temptation, into a snare, into many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. 10 For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evils. It is through this craving that some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pangs. 1 Timothy 6: 3-10 (ESV)
This past week, I have really been struggling with discontent. There are things I want that I can’t afford; things I want to accomplish, but I have other obligations that eat away at my time and energy. I want to lose weight and exercise more– the spirit is willing– but my body and will-power are weak. And I spiraled down into anger, frustration, depression, and comparison. It’s been an ugly week. Instead of thanking God that we have enough money to pay the bills and buy groceries, I complain about the price of the groceries and bills, and the lack of money left over for entertainment or new clothes I don’t need.
“Godliness with contentment is great gain” (v.6). It’s a verse I learned as a girl, and yet I’m still struggling with the concept. Part of that, I think may be that our culture’s teachings clash with the Bible. There are people in our culture– even pastors and Bible teachers– who twist the Gospel so that, as Paul says they (imagine) that godliness is a MEANS of gain. (v. 5). And I have listened to, and bought into, that concept– that God rewards (financially, socially, physically) those who practice “godliness”. But what kind of godliness bargains with God for reward? What kind of godliness leads to discontent and anger?
No. Godliness is not a game or a role to play at. It is, much like prayer, a pursuit and a lifestyle. It is discipleship– following the example of Christ’s life and teachings– changing the way I think and the way I live. And no amount of “following the principles” on my own will lead to that kind of change, because my motive will always be “gain.” Whether gaining money, or status, or achievements and accolades, this type of sham godliness will leave me discontented. And the price of that discontent will be my life.
The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. John 10:10 (ESV).
Jesus did not come to earth to gain fame or fortune. He was despised by many and crucified by the religious authorities of his day. He was misunderstood, and he was, in worldly terms, a failure. He was homeless, childless; there were no monuments to His achievements, no medals or honors bestowed on Him by the rulers of the day. BUT He came to make it possible for us to break the chains of Sin, guilt, worry, jealousy, and discontent. Jesus saw suffering around Him. He saw people with beautiful houses, high social status, productive farms or businesses, and great political power. But He was not drawn to them. He was content to do the Father’s will; content to travel from town to town, talking with lepers and prostitutes, with tax collectors and beggars. And His life changed the world! It is because of His life, death, and resurrection that I can have eternal life and abundant life now and forevermore (John 3:16).
That doesn’t mean that I have everything I want, or that I don’t have to struggle in the present. And it doesn’t mean that I am comfortable and complacent with what I do have. Sometimes, life is difficult and doesn’t seem very “abundant” in the moment. I still have bills. I still have diabetes. And I still have ambitions and unrealized goals. I just need to remember what the Gospel is really all about. It isn’t about becoming rich or well-respected, or productive in the eyes of the world. My life may be quietly abundant in the things that really matter– peace with God, time with family and friends, opportunities to reach out with hope and encouragement to those who need it, seeing beyond the moments of life to the value of life itself.
“Godliness with contentment” isn’t about wealth or achievement. It’s about the journey– and taking this journey WITH God–walking at His pace, walking where He tells me to walk, walking toward a greater goal. Discontent takes me along a different path– one that will never result in a life that is truly abundant and worth living. I waste my days wishing for this or regretting that or envying someone else’s victories instead of being able to join with them in celebration. It teaches me to be frantic, restless, and angry with myself and others. It leaves me exhausted and unfulfilled.
Money, fame, achievement– none of these is the “root of all evil.” Rather, it is the love of ANYTHING that displaces my “first” love for God that is the root of all kinds of hurt, grief, disappointment, and waste.
There is a zoo, about an hour from my house, where you can climb up on a platform at certain times of the day, and feed giraffes. Since giraffes are not native to the American Midwest, this is probably the closest I ever have come, or ever will come, to a live giraffe, and I have enjoyed the opportunity to interact with this unique member of God’s creation.
Giraffes are grazers, but their unique bodies are not best designed for munching on grass or other low-lying plants. Instead, their focus is on the tops of trees and tall bushes. For me to feed a giraffe, I need to be at the level of the tree branches. And it changes my perspective. I’m no longer paying attention to ants and blades of grass. I can see landscapes and clouds for miles stretching out around me. Not a bad view at all!
Yet giraffes are still grounded–they do not soar like eagles, above all the clouds and unattached to the earth. Giraffes must still be on guard and prepared to flee danger from predators or grass fires. But their unique height and perspective give them a better view to see the danger from far off, and act accordingly.
Sometimes, I think we are called to pray with a giraffe’s perspective–to look up and out and pray from the treetops–a little closer to God and leaving behind the small things of the world. Lofty prayers of gratitude and praise; prayers that recognize that there is a big world of wonder all around us. Prayers that look ahead and can see trouble on the horizon; to seek God’s face early and prepare for hard times ahead.
This doesn’t mean that we will always be in a place to pray treetop prayers. Sometimes, we need to pray from the depths. There are days when we cannot lift our eyes without help from the very God to whom we pray. But we are called to walk THROUGH the valleys, not to stay in them! We should feel confident that God will still hear us, no matter where we may be. But the Bible reminds us often that we should look up, ascend, raise our eyes, and change our perspective.
I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. Psalm 121: 1-2 (ESV)
Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one and calls forth each of them by name. Isaiah 40:26
Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is… Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. Colossians 3: 1-2
But as for me, I watch in hope for the Lord, I wait for God my Savior; my God will hear me.Micah 7:7
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. 2 Corinthians 4:18
“Surely then you will find delight in the Almighty and will lift up your face to God.”Job 22:26
“But you, Lord, are a shield around me, my glory, the One who lifts my head high.” Psalm 3:3
I plan to take some time today for treetop prayer. Will you?
During Jesus’ ministry on earth, there were many discussions about who he was, who he said he was, and who others said he was. The Bible is full of the names of God, of Jesus, and of the Holy Spirit– there are descriptive names, prophetic names, genealogical references, allegorical names, sacred names…but one of the pivotal questions Jesus asked of his followers was this: “Who do YOU say that I am”? (Luke 9:18-27; Matt. 16: 13-18)
We can ask ourselves why Jesus might pose this question to the disciples– was it some Socratic technique, or a trick question? The disciples had heard several theories, descriptions, and names tossed about. Was Jesus trying to determine how effectively he had presented himself to the Jewish people– and to his closest followers? I don’t think so. If that were his motivation, he could have asked, “Who to you THINK I am?”, or “Who WOULD you say that I am?” Instead, he asked “Who DO YOU SAY that I am?”
This is still a very relevant question today, and not just as a matter of recognizing him as Messiah. Even when Peter gave an answer, Jesus did not say, “Good job, Peter. You nailed it in one! That’s the right answer, and your prize is that you will become “The Rock” on which I build my church.” That’s how some people might read it, but that’s not the true story– Peter gave a correct answer, an inspired answer, but it was not a definitive answer. Peter recognized who Jesus was supposed to be, but he had not experienced, and did not know, the fullness of who Jesus was. Peter would later go on to deny this same Jesus, and say that he did not even know him at all! Only after Jesus’ resurrection and ascension did Peter fully recognize and live out the answer he gave earlier. His last years were spent demonstrating in words and deeds that he had truly encountered “the Christ, the Son of the Living God!”
How does this relate to a pursuit of prayer in our own time? What we say about Jesus involves more than just a pat answer. To say, “He is the Christ, the Son of the Living God” is a correct answer, but what does that really mean to us? What does it mean as we live as a witness before others? Is he Christ and Savior, and Messiah to me? When I say he is the “Son of God,” is that just another of his many names to me, or do I understand all the richness of that title? When I review the many names of God, do they resonate with personal meaning? Do I pray to the “God who Sees,” to the “God who Provides,” the “God of my Salvation,” the “Almighty”, and the “God who Hears?” Or am I praying to a “God I studied and know a lot about,” a “God I heard about at Church,” or a “God I hope will hear me?” If I pray “in Jesus’ name,” is that just an affectation? Is it just a formality, or does that name, that person, inhabit my prayers and my life? Am I praying in the name of the “Lion of Judah,” “Emmanuel”, “the Risen Lamb,” or just “a great teacher who talked a lot about love?”
These are not questions meant to trigger doubt about my salvation, but questions designed to challenge my commitment and my faithfulness. I bear the name of Christ–what I think I say about him; what I think I believe about him; what I think others see of him in me– it matters. It is of supreme importance. I need to be sure that I’m not taking for granted that what I know about my savior is the same as Knowing Him, and that what I think I’m saying about him is clear, consistent, and true.
What do my prayers say about Jesus? What do my actions say about him? What does my life say about him? Hopefully, like Peter, the end of my story will bring honor and bear truthful witness to the Great “I AM” of scripture, the God of MY salvation, and the God who has heard me, loved me, corrected me, redeemed me, sanctified me, and welcomed me home to be with Him eternally!
“He rules the world with Truth and Grace, And makes the nations prove The glories of His Righteousness And wonders of His Love.”
Christmas is a time of wonder. Even stories that have little to do with the birth of the Christ Child– Frosty the Snowman, or A Christmas Carol, or The Grinch Who Stole Christmas–involve miracles and wondrously unexpected transformations. We thrill to see redemption and hope triumph over gloom and bitterness. We cheer when the Grinch’s small heart grows three sizes, or when Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer makes the team and leads Santa through a snowstorm. We want to believe that there is a special magic about the first snowfall of each year; that the very coming of Christmas Eve holds a special promise of Peace and Goodwill.
But the ultimate Wonder is that of God’s Love for us:
God SO LOVED the world– not because the world was lovable; not because the world’s people were just and kind and honorable; not because God was blinded to the world’s sickness and sorrows and just wanted to feel “groovy” about the world. God just loved the world SO MUCH…
That He GAVE– God didn’t just talk about Love and Joy and Peace– He GAVE–His only begotten Son. He, the creator, became the created– the ruler of the universe became a helpless baby born in a crowded city, banished to a barn because there was no room reserved for his coming. God gave lavishly, sacrificially, completely– He poured out His majesty to take on humanity, and then poured out his human life in service and sacrifice. He kept nothing back– none of his power to avoid injustice, shame, or death; none of his glory or majesty. He suffered the indignity of dusty roads, homelessness, sleepless nights, and crucifixion. He suffered the loneliness of misunderstanding and betrayal by his friends and family.
That WHOSOEVER BELIEVETH IN HIM– Whosoever! Not the noble, not the rich, not the “eminently qualified,” not the beautiful or strong or intelligent “enough.” God yearns to bring the wonder of redemption to the very ones who are ready to give up; to those who know they don’t deserve God’s love and grace; to those who have not known joy or peace, only darkness and grief– those who cannot earn God’s favor can have it in abundance, if only they believe that God exists, and that He rewards those who earnestly seek Him (Hebrews 11:6)
SHALL NOT PERISH, but have everlasting/eternal life–What a wonderful promise! Wonderful because it is beyond our ability to fathom; wonderful because it is undeserved and unexpected; wonderful because it is the ultimate expression of limitless, eternal LOVE. We think of Death as inevitable and permanent–But Christ came to show us that death is temporary and powerless! Hope and Joy, Love and Peace– they have already WON. They are the reality– the rest is only a vapor.
Christmas is so much more than any story of transformation or redemption– it is THE story of redemption; the reality upon which all other stories rest. It is THE Wonder of the Ages– That God would love us beyond limit, beyond even our imagination, and that He would do so as a helpless Baby in a Manger.
Pursuing Prayer 