November 10th marks the 50th anniversary of the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, an iron freighter that sank in Lake Superior. The gale-force winds tossed the ship (carrying over 26,000 tons of iron) in waves of over 35 feet. All 29 sailors aboard the ship were lost. The event has been memorialized in song and stories, and in at least one museum display at Whitefish Point Michigan, near where the wreck occurred. The bell tolled 29 times, once for every life lost in the storm. Fifty years later, families are still haunted by the tragedy– a continuing reminder of the fragility of life, and the power and destructive force of winds and waves.
Some days, the hits just keep coming– an unexpected expense, a misunderstanding at work, a fender-bender during the commute, a plumbing nightmare, a migraine, the phone call with bad news. Each new pain rolls over us, throwing us off balance, and trying to drag us under like a storm-tossed ship.
“Even so, it is well with my soul.” The story of this favorite hymn has been told many times, but it bears repeating. ( It Is Will With My Soul. wikipedia.org ) The author of these words had lost everything– his only son had died; shortly afterward, he lost almost all his money and property in the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. A friend, knowing of his troubles invited him to bring his family to England for an evangelistic campaign. Mr. Spafford (the above-mentioned author of the hymn) had to stay behind and sent his wife and four daughters ahead. Their ship, the Ville du Havre, was struck by another vessel and sank. All four of the daughters were drowned, and only his wife survived to send him news of the tragedy. As he made the heartbreaking voyage to rejoin his wife, he passed the place where his daughters had most likely gone down. At that moment, Mr. Spafford felt a welling of peace and hope beyond human understanding, which led him to pen the words that have given comfort to so many in the years since:
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul.
Nothing can prepare us for the sorrows that sweep over us at unexpected moments. Nothing can stop them, and though we know they will come, no one knows how high they will rise, or when they will crest and break around us. No one except the one who set the boundaries of the sea, the one who has walked on its waters, and the one who can calm the storm.
God doesn’t remove the sorrows or tragedies from our life or prevent them from washing around and over us. But for those who trust in him, there is a promise that we will not be consumed. We may be in a storm-tossed boat in the middle of a raging sea, but at our faintest cry, Jesus will walk on choppy waves to be by our side and bring comfort. He will teach us to be in awe of him as he commands the winds and waves to obey him. He will teach us to trust him in the good times and the bad. He will teach us to say, “It is well with my soul!”
35 Who can separate us from the love of Christ? Can affliction or anguish or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? 36 As it is written: Because of You we are being put to death all day long; we are counted as sheep to be slaughtered.[a] 37 No, in all these things we are more than victorious through Him who loved us. 38 For I am persuaded that not even death or life, angels or rulers, things present or things to come, hostile powers, 39 height or depth, or any other created thing will have the power to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord! Romans 8:35-39 (HCSB)
I’ve been asking myself “why?” a lot lately in regards to this blog. Why am I spending my time writing about prayer? Wouldn’t I be better served to spend my time productively– making something useful, keeping the apartment cleaner, going to the gym–even spending more time in prayer instead of dissecting it and babbling on to an invisible audience?
But the truth is that I began writing this blog in response to another question, a more basic question thrown at me (not personally, but thrown out to all who believe in the power of prayer)– “WHY?” They weren’t asking the question because they really wanted to know my reasons for praying; instead, they wanted to make me feel ashamed and embarrassed, to doubt God’s goodness and my faith. In fact, they weren’t asking “WHY” so much as asking “HOW”. How can you continue to believe in God and continue praying in light of random shootings, manifest injustices, rampant corruption, and senseless tragedies? How can you say that God is good, when people continue to get away with evil? If God exists, where is he, and how can you just sit back and trust in him?
The fact that I DO continue to trust God doesn’t mean I don’t have questions and concerns, and even righteous anger about the state of the world and the tragedies that fill it. The questions come pouring out, sometimes keeping me awake at night, sometimes catching me at a raw moment– and they are important questions. To pretend that I never wrestle or struggle with the questions is to say that good and evil, justice and mercy, that God himself– none of it really matters enough to seek an answer. God forbid!!
But there is a vast difference in asking “Why?” and challenging God by saying “How? or How come?”
Consider a small child who asks, “Why is the sky blue?” (Don’t you just love the inquisitiveness of small children?) “Well…” I can explain that the sky itself isn’t really blue…I can go on to talk about scientific principals– the property of light, refraction through water molecules and dust particles, and more..I can point out that the sky doesn’t always appear blue, etc. At the end of my long and factual discourse (assuming the child hasn’t already interrupted), s/he is likely to simply shake their head and ask, “But, why?” WHY? Because I haven’t really answered the heart of the question. I explained HOW, not WHY.
Now suppose I don’t feel like being pedantic, and I simply answer “Because.” You can guess what comes next. The child will ask, “Because WHY?” Because “Because” isn’t a sufficiently satisfactory answer. The child wants more; he/she yearns for more comprehension; more understanding.
As an adult, we find this kind of questioning frustrating and annoying. I think it is because we have been conditioned to think that questions either have a “How come” explanation that sweeps away much of the wonder and mystery, or a “because” answer that leaves us unsatisfied. We are frustrated by questions to which we already have a pat answer, and we are frustrated by questions to which we have never received a satisfactory answer.
As an adult, I may well ask, “Why is there evil in the world?” This is an important question; one I should be asking. Experts can and will give me all kinds of “how” answers– how the brain is wired, how emotions work, how society has failed various groups of people, how political structures create oppression, how religion teaches intolerance, how poor diet or lack of sunny days … there are a million explanation of “how” evil exists or why it persists. And many of these explanations contradict each other, so they can’t even give a conclusive answer. But just throwing up my hands, and saying, “just because” does nothing to answer my question OR provide understanding that could help alleviate the effects of evil in the world. “Because” communicates my powerlessness to comprehend.
BUT
Something amazing happens when I stop merely asking people for answers to these questions and start asking God. I don’t get a magical, comprehensive, incontrovertible answer to life’s thorny questions. God doesn’t send me a “cheat sheet” with all the “right” answers. I’m not suddenly an expert on good and evil or what should be done to eliminate crime and disease and poverty. I still have to wade through the “how come” explanations and use my limited judgment to decide what course of action I can take to try to make a positive difference. And I will make some mistakes along the way. But when GOD says, “Because”, there is an authority, a majesty, and a wisdom that can never be present in my answer. I say “because,” because I have no more to say; no better answer. God says, “Because,” because HE IS the answer! And the cause! And he gives explanations in his word for many of my questions– even if I don’t like the answers! He doesn’t explain “how come” the sky is blue–even though science can tell me the “how come.” God doesn’t have to explain the blue sky –He causes it to be blue. “Why is the sky blue?” God makes it so. “But why?” Because He is God and I am not. God explains “how come” there is evil in the world– it’s called SIN–but he doesn’t leave it there. “Why?” Because we have the free will to choose good or evil. “Why?” Because God wants willing obedience and loving companionship with us. “Why?” Because God is love! “So why does he allow evil to continue?” Because he has a plan that involves redemption and restoration and renewal. He is the cause of this plan, he is its author and finisher. Moreover, he is the cause of my desire to ask “why?”, to seek for a more fulfilling answer, to yearn for a solution to the very evil that prompts my questions.
I won’t stop asking “why.” Not because I don’t have any answer, or because I don’t know the answer. It’s just that the answer is so much bigger, so much better, so much MORE than I can handle in the shortness of this lifetime. And it’s important that I not only keep asking the question, but that I keep defending the answer. Because perhaps today, or tomorrow, or every day next week, someone may ask me WHY?
1 Peter 3:14-16English Standard Version (ESV)
14 But even if you should suffer for righteousness’ sake, you will be blessed. Have no fear of them, nor be troubled,15 but in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect,16 having a good conscience, so that, when you are slandered, those who revile your good behavior in Christ may be put to shame.
I started down the boulevard,
Freshly paved, smooth and gleaming,
Its lanes clearly marked and a gentle rise
Toward a glorious horizon.
New construction sites caught my eye;
Here was progress– here was the future!
I drove on, excited in my new course,
Dreaming of destiny and fulfillment.
Gradually, the scenery changed.
Construction gave way to abandoned projects:
Half-finished high-rises, silent storefronts,
Driveways leading nowhere, weedy parking lots.
Now the road, so smooth at the beginning,
Twisted and turned without purpose.
Gravel and broken pavement lined with
Abandoned cars and broken glass.
Frightening thoughts intruded–
I had seen no open stores, no gas stations,
No houses, or other cars for miles. I was alone.
There were no crossroads; no places to turn around.
The road that had begun with so much promise
Was now a rutted path going nowhere.
I woke up in a cold sweat– it had been a dream.
More– it had been a warning.
I had “good intentions” for my journey.
But the easy road, the appearance of future success
Had lured me away from the path marked with suffering
And paved with ancient truths.
I had packed no maps, ignored the GPS, and trusted to “instinct”
To lead me, not to a fixed destination, but to “discovery.”
I drifted back to sleep, and dreamed that I was back at the beginning.
Roads branched out all around me.
The gleaming new boulevard no longer held any appeal.
But now I studied the other roads.
There were so many; roads leading to “enlightenment”;
Roads offering “fame” and “immortality”;
Narrow paths promising “mysticism”;
Superhighways advertising “happiness.”
Off to the right, there was a tiny filling station–
The old fashioned kind, with a service man.
He offered to fill my tank, but then he said,
“They all end up in the same place, you know.”
I looked up into his eyes–eyes that held in them
The wisdom of the ages and boundless love.
“Enter in at the narrow gate…”
“I am the way, the truth, and the life…”
“This is the way, walk ye in it…”
He turned and walked through the back door
And I followed him down a sunlit path,
Up a small rise, and into glory.
It’s been nearly 45 years since I first heard this phrase, but it has resonated with me ever since. Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote of it over 200 years ago, speaking of how readers interact with literature, especially when it contains fantastical or supernatural elements. Our high school English teacher and drama coach, Mrs. Barr spoke of it not only in the context of literature but in the context of the theater. In fact, in all art, the artist depends on at least some willing suspension of disbelief on the part of his/her audience.
In visual art, we must believe that a few strategic blobs of color, or carefully shaped pieces of marble or wood have captured something timeless and true about a single moment in time– that movement and emotion and life can be held immortal on a canvas or a statue or a tapestry. We must suspend our disbelief that paint, or wood, marble or stone exists only as itself– in the artist’s capable hands, mere matter transcends its ordinary form to touch our very soul. In music, we can hear, in the well-played notes of an instrument, the sounds of birds, the falling rain, the crashing of thunder, the marching of armies, or the buzzing of bees. Music doesn’t just touch our ears, it can touch our souls. Shakespeare also alluded to this in a comical way: “Is it not strange that sheep’s guts should hale souls out of men’s bodies” (Much Ado About Nothing– Act II, Scene 3) We can listen to a symphony without being moved, but in the willing suspension of disbelief, we can be transformed and inspired by notes on a page and breath being blown into wood or brass or fingers or bows being drawn over “sheep’s guts”.
In literature or in the movies, we must suspend our disbelief that mythical creatures, aliens, monsters, and talking animals live among us as a normal occurrence– for the duration of the story…Dragons must be vanquished, Fairy Godmothers must be allowed to help poor Cinderella to the ball, and The Raven must repeat his ominous line, “Nevermore.” Frodo must hide from orcs and Nazgul in order to reach the Fires of Doom and destroy the One Ring. Charlotte must spin her wordy webs and Papa Bear must exclaim, “someone has been sitting in my chair.” As children, we shed our disbelief readily and enter into the story, falling in love (or having nightmares about) imaginary characters. As adults we become cynical, and lose some of our ability to enter into imagination and other-wordly realms.
I was recently reminded of this concept of the willing suspension of disbelief in two different contexts– loss of Faith, and the deception of the internet– including “fact checking” and AI. Very different experiences, but I think they both tie in.
First, in the loss of Faith. I know so many people, family, friends, even strangers, who write passionately about their loss of Faith. Oh, they don’t call it that. They have other terms, other catchphrases– they talk about their “Deconversion” or their “Awakening”. They are too smart, too savvy, too enlightened to give credence to Faith in Jesus, or in any “god” or divine being. After all, they cannot see “Him” or “it”; they cannot prove His existence (they can’t prove His non-existence either, but that’s another story). Believing in God, they claim, is the same as believing in fairy tales.
And yet…Keats once posited, “Beauty is truth, truth beauty– That is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know” (Ode on a Grecian Urn). Earlier in his poem, he also says, “Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d, pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone…” There is an acknowledgement that we do not just exist in a physical plane, but in a world of metaphysical marvels– memory, hope, and yes, even “fairy tales”.
Of course, we know that there is no Cinderella– no “happily ever after” in this world. Life is not a fairy tale story. But our lives ARE stories– we have a beginning and an end. We want to find a purpose, a reason for being who we are, where we are, and even when we are. We search for our “true” identities. We dream dreams and harbor hopes. We battle evil forces– the demanding boss, the annoying neighbors, blizzards and tornadoes, cancer…And we believe very strongly in concepts of justice and injustice, fairness and unfairness, goodness and evil–metaphysical concepts. We long to be understood, accepted, “seen,” and loved (ever after!). And we must suspend our disbelief in the face of evil to search for the good. We must suspend our disbelief in our own worth to make choices that preserve our health and develop our latent talents. Indeed, we must believe and cherish what we do NOT see or have never experienced, or we will be crushed by our (often temporary) realities. When cynicism and disbelief BECOME our belief system, we become the living dead. Oh, we can continue doing “good” things without believing in God; we can espouse a code of “good living”, we can take care of our bodies and emotions within a framework of humanism and self-esteem. But we will not experience the fullness of Truth, or Beauty, or majesty, that lives in Faith.
Loss of Faith represents, what I would call an “unwillingness” to suspend disbelief, or a tendency to cling to only that which can be experienced on a physical plane. But there is another danger– that of an “unwilling” suspension of disbelief–believing things that are deceptive, because they are presented as “truth.” This includes such things as “fake news” on the internet, “fact checkers” who tilt the truth and “throw shade” on inconvenient or uncomfortable truths, and AI-generated stories meant to “create” truth where none exists.
I would like to say that I am immune to such things; that my knowledge and dependence on truth cannot be subjected to manipulation. But that is not always true. I see a touching story on Facebook about a young person who is missing– please spread the word– only to find out that the post is several months out of date. I see a meme that accuses one political big-shot or a celebrity or even a corporation or business of being corrupt, unfair, evil, etc., and I am outraged– until I realize that the original post was generated by a person or group that is completely unknown to me. I don’t know their true experience, or their motivation in spreading this information (or false information). It MAY be true, it MAY be completely false, but it is most likely somewhere in between– not nearly as bad as portrayed, or as every bit as bad as other politicians, celebrities, or companies who aren’t mentioned in the meme or article.
Outrage— especially outrage that is deliberately and manipulatively generated– is the suspension of not just disbelief, but of discernment. We immediately judge. We immediately feel our blood pressure rise, our cheeks flame, and our breathing accelerate. Webecome passionately angry, but we also become instantly indignant and self-righteous. I would never…I cannot tolerate… But what have we done on a smaller scale? Are we SO innocent? Do we have the authority to judge based on a single article or photo?
But it is not just outrage that can be deliberately and manipulatively generated. AI and bad actors on the internet and other media sources can also manipulate our hopes, our disappointments, and our beliefs in what has happened and what is happening around us. Stories appear online that sound authentic, narrated by well-modulated voices (many of which seem familiar), telling us that this event took place and changed someone’s life, or that this celebrity has finally “spilled the dirt” about beloved co-stars who died a couple of decades ago. Others purport to give “wise words” from aging actors or writers or recently dead corporate gurus. We suspend our disbelief, or our suspicions, because we trust the voice or the photoshopped picture. We choose to believe the worst of people we already dislike. We choose to believe only the best of people we like. If a stranger came up to me on the street with a story like this, I would be suspicious. Who are they? Why are they telling me this? Why should I trust them? But we suspend our disbelief if we see it in print with what looks like credible photos and when narrated by what we assume to be a credible voice. If we bother to look at the source, even that seems credible– I may not have heard of this news service, but it has the word “news” in its heading…
We put our Faith in things seen– even if they are false, while we hold truth and beauty to be suspicious, because we have lost the ability to hope and trust in something beyond our own wisdom and personal perceptions.
We need dreamers and artists and writers who see truth and beauty in the universal and metaphysical realities of faith and hope and majesty. And we need people with the discernment to disbelieve what strangers claim to “show” and “tell” us with their clever manipulations.
Both Faith and “the willing suspension of disbelief” depend on the Will. We have to make choices in what we are willing to believe and how far we are willing to search for the truth– both in what we can see, and in what we cannot.
I keep hearing about, and seeing reports of “Fake” News. Even the term “Fake” News is somewhat misleading–is it news? Is it False News? Is it “fake” because it never happened, or because it has been exaggerated or taken out of context? Or because it doesn’t say what I want it to say? How do I know what is “real” news anymore?
The biggest problem with “Fake” news is that it “feels” real, true, and important. In reality, it may be none of those things. Yet there if often a kernel of fact, or a dusting of truth that makes it hard to disprove or dispel. And, if it had already been accepted as legitimate news by thousands, it’s even harder to stop it from being spread.
But the more insidious problem with “fake” news is the time wasted trying to sort truth from fiction, and plain fact from exaggeration and distortion. If my friend sends me an article, or a video, or a photo, I may accept it as true on the strength of my friendship. But what if they’re just passing it on from another source? What if I see it from a recognized news source? Do I dare question it? And if so, where do I turn to verify it? There are several fact-checking websites, but even they have biases that cause them to weigh facts differently in various situations. Whatever assumptions we used to hold about “neutral” reporting have been proved wrong. We are being conditioned to trust none of what we hear and less than half of what we see!
What about the “Good” News that Christians carry into the world? Is it like the “Fake” news we see on TV or read about on our tablets? And if someone challenges our faith in God’s word, how can we prove that the Gospel is not “Fake”, and that our Faith is not just more hype with smoke and mirrors? If we are pursuing prayer, shouldn’t we be confident that our prayers are not in vain and that our faith is sound?
The claim of “Fake” news makes an assumption that there is such a thing as “True” news. Similarly, saying the Gospel is “Fake” assumes that there is an alternate truth. But the real burden of proof is on those who want to push for the alternative. The truths of the Bible have been time-tested, and shown to be real. The challenges I hear most often are to the exceptions, not the rule. I don’t hear anyone saying that “Thou shalt not steal” is a “fake” morality. Instead, I hear that, “Christianity is fake because I know Christians who cheat and steal.” I don’t hear people claim that “it is not morally wrong to kill.” Instead I hear them justify exceptions. “I’m not promoting abortion as a good thing. I don’t think it’s right to kill another human being, but this is just a fetus, and anyway, I’m just protecting a woman’s right to her own body.” “I don’t think it’s ethical to force someone to stay alive if they are in pain and they want to die.” “You can’t go around just killing anybody, but I think it would be better for everyone else if ___________________ (insert the name of a group– Down’s Syndrome children, Jews, Sunnis, Hutu/Tutsi) didn’t exist.” “I don’t believe the morals found in the Bible are wrong. I just don’t think you need to believe the rest of it to “be moral.”
People point to single passages, single verses, even single words to “prove” that the Bible is racist, sexist, intolerant, and promotes violence. The Bible includes many examples of people NOT following God’s laws, and yes, the results are grisly. And there are difficult passages when God calls for a wicked city to be destroyed completely. Critics are not wrong to point out that the Bible is not about perfect people behaving perfectly. And the same Loving God who frees the slaves from Egypt is the God who destroys Jericho, and Sodom and Gomorrah. Taken out of context, these few examples may seem to cast doubt on the authority of God’s word. Yet the same critics who pound away at the same few examples in the Bible discount hundreds of instances of historical events that highlight human sacrifice, genocide, mass infanticide, slavery, torture, and all sorts of other evil that occurred without the Bible’s influence. Moreover, I hear a lot about claims against “Christians” who fought in the Crusades or owned slaves–I hear a lot less about Christians who worked to end slavery and the slave trade, or Christians who founded universities, charitable institutions, or brought revivals that sparked decades of social progress throughout countries and continents.
I don’t hear many people claim that there was no such person as Abraham, or King David, or Solomon, or Nebuchadnezzar, or Pontius Pilate or Caesar Augustus. But they want to deny the historical reality of Adam and Eve, Jesus of Nazareth, and the Apostle Paul, who are found in the same Bible. Why? Because if Adam and Eve are real, there must be a creation and a creator. If Jesus really lived and said the things that are attributed to him, we must deal with the claim that he was Messiah. If the Apostle Paul really lived and wrote his letters to the churches of Asia Minor, we must deal with his claim that he encountered the risen Christ and his life was dramatically and eternally changed.
However, there is a “Fake” gospel– Good news that doesn’t match the Biblical account–a “Fake” Christ that only said or did or “would do” what we want him to say or do; a Christ that isn’t holy or righteous, but just loves us because it’s the “zen” thing to do; a Christ who is without power to save or to sanctify; a Christ who is without mercy and loves only those who look the part or say the right things. How do you spot a “Fake” Christ and a “Fake” Gospel? Get to know the real ones of the Bible. You’ll soon be able to spot an “imposter.”
“Fake” News will always fail the test of time and the challenges of real evidence. Good News will transcend the test of time and the challenges of faulty evidence.
Christ Has Died, Christ Is Risen, Christ Will Come Again! THAT’s the Good News!
We all have lists of “favorites”– favorite color, favorite foods, favorite songs, favorite bands, favorite movies, favorite books…the list goes on and on. And we all have our comfort zones– preferences, habits, traditions, routines– that impact the way we go through our daily lives. There is nothing inherently wrong with having favorite things or preferences. But we can let such things become idols or obsessions that get in the way of prayer and worship.
We all know someone who has a “pet peeve”–it comes up in every conversation, overshadows more important issues, and becomes a defining characteristic of that person. “Grammar Nazi”, “Clean Freak”, “Political Junkie”, that person who always spoils the new movie by giving you their critique; the person who can spot a piece of lint on your sweater from across the room; the person at the restaurant who is never satisfied…
We probably also know someone who “plays favorites”– they show favoritism in their families, in the workplace, and in other situations, to the detriment of others. They are unjust in their treatment; giving very unequal amounts of attention, time, energy, and love to those around them. This world plays favorites– we have celebrities, rock stars, corporate bigwigs, power brokers, tyrants, and billionaires, while countless millions remain nameless, forgotten, and oppressed.
God doesn’t “play favorites.” He chooses to bless both the just and the unjust; he offers the same salvation and mercy to rich and poor, foolish and wise, famous and forgotten, sanctimonious and scandalous; to any who will receive him. We must remember this in our prayers. God wants to hear our heart-cry; he wants all of it– our favorite praises, our naked confessions, our pet peeves, and our deepest needs. He does not bless us based on who we are, or how urgent our request may be to us–remember, he knows what is on our mind before we do! AND, he already knows our deepest needs, and which seemingly unimportant moments will have the greatest impact in our lives, and in our world.
One of the benefits I have found in keeping a prayer journal is reading back requests and needs I have raised–for two reasons. First, I am amazed and encouraged to see all the ways God has answered prayer over the months and years as I look back. I am reminded, humbled, astonished, and grateful–I receive fresh inspiration to worship, evidence to trust, and encouragement to hope.
Second, I am watching to see if I am “praying favorites”–spending more time listing and praying for “rock star” requests (miraculous healing, “prayer chain” prayers from the internet for people I don’t know, selfish prayers, praying for people based on their “importance”, etc.) than for the “other things” (my friend who wants prayer because she’s having a bad day, that friend who wants me to pray that his mother’s car will start after a cold and snowy weekend, confessing that “little” sin, praying for my annoying neighbor who just lost her cat, etc. ), There’s nothing wrong with praying for the former, unless those prayers are squeezing out other needs and getting in the way of being wholly open before God and seeking His heart and others’ needs above my own preferences.
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.
Spring has arrived. In my part of the world, that means many people are hoping for milder temperatures, gentle spring rains, and new growth after the cold and colorless winter. Most of us love the idea of spring, and the promise it brings. Those soft days of baby birds chirping outside our window as the gentle raindrops roll down; of newly budded trees and flowers opening to the warmth of the sun; the smell of freshly turned earth in gardens and fields; the bleating of lambs and the down of chicks and ducklings; children squealing in delight as they leap from puddle to puddle in their colorful boots; the world slowly waking up in a thousand shades of green..
Of course, it never seems to go exactly like that– sometimes the weather this time of year can be volatile– tornadoes, freak ice storms, sudden heat waves, flooding, or a mix of all of the above in a matter of hours! Chirping birds can’t be heard over the roar of traffic and blaring car radios. The smell of exhaust chokes out the aroma of rich dirt or fresh flowers. The same rain that brings puddles also brings mud and run-off and potholes in the road. And, possibly because we have such expectations of spring, it seems to fly by and disappear almost before it comes. There is a joke that sort of summarizes the unpredictable nature of spring around here– “I love spring in Michigan (or insert another Midwest state)– last year it was on a Wednesday!”
Like the season of spring, prayer holds promise and expectation. God promises to hear our prayers, but sometimes our expectations are not in line with God’s answers. Farmers pray for dry days to plow and plant, and rain to come before and after to soften the earth and water the seeds. Little League players want the rain to come on Monday, and the diamond to be dry by Saturday. School children want the rain to come overnight, so the playground will be dry for recess. Commuters want the rain to fall after they drive to work and before they have to drive home. All may pray for rain, but not in the same way, for the same reasons, or at the same time.
We all want the promise of easy growth, gentle weather, and comfortable routine. But God’s plan may involve blustery days and muddy driveways. God will bring rain, and sunshine, in his time. He will calm the storms and blow away the clouds. He will send us flowers and rainbows, and perfect days for flying kites and playing baseball. And maybe, this year, it will be on Wednesday! But the stormy days remind us of three things:
God is with us through the storm. He is with us when the rains come; and when the clouds roll back to reveal the rainbow. He knows the pain you feel when you view the storm damage and assess the loss. Even as the seasons change, he has promised to be with us always
God is stronger than our storms. His ways are wiser than ours, and his plans are better. We may be drenched and covered in mud when we expected to be dry and comfortable, but the race isn’t finished yet. We may fall down, but we’re not out! He can give us the resources and the power to rebuild, renew, and start over. No matter how short (or long) our season of storms, it is only a season– it will pass. Just as winter gave way to spring, spring leads to summer–sometimes overnight; sometimes in fits and starts.
God is eternal. Storms and seasons are local and temporary. I may be experiencing spring in Michigan, but others are experiencing rainy season in India, or “fall” in New Zealand. It can be sunny here, and snowing in Minnesota, and raining at my cousin’s house in Alabama. And when I am praying for rain, someone close by is praying for sunshine. But someday, and for all eternity, God will be our source of light– there will be no need for storms and seasons, no need to pray for rain.
Pursuing Prayer 