We’ve come a long way from being Pharisees. We don’t stand and proclaim our righteousness, when we know that inside we are just sepulchres full of old man’s bones. Oh, no. We would be shocked at such hypocrisy and maybe even shun someone who was audacious enough to try it.
We don’t try to come off as righteous. We fully and honestly believe that we are sinners, every day—thought, word, deed—and we take a strange pleasure in confessing it. It is as though we wear our sinfulness as a badge of honour; we pin it on our lapel and make sure it stands out. Nobody’s badge is the same colour, of course, but all of them mean the same thing—I am sinful—and we are almost proud of it. We hold our sinfulness very near and dear; and woe be to the man who suggests that we need not wear such a badge.
This situation is a very interesting twist, I think. I can’t call it hypocrisy—it’s not—it’s not claiming to be something we’re not, or acting one way and talking another. It’s quite the opposite; it’s claiming to be something we really believe we are, acting the way we talk. But it’s such a strange way to talk. Because we talk like we would die if we weren’t sinful. Because we talk like it’s a horrible sin to be un-sinful. Because we cling so dearly to the thought that we are sinful, so tightly to the idea that we are hopeless cases.
I find it intriguing in light of the thought that we are (supposedly, anyway) God’s children. Wisdom is justified of her children. Abraham’s children do the works of Abraham. “Ye do the deeds of your father.”
This strange talk evades a name. What should I call it? Can it be honesty? If I call it honesty, what then do we make of what we claim to be, if “the lusts of your father ye will do?” Can it be, perhaps, taking the Lord’s name in vain? We take his name to ourselves, calling ourselves His children—and yet we speak and act as though sinfulness is the most consistent and true trait of our lives.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
If the Tree Fits, Why Not Put It Up?
Sshh. Not a sound could be heard. Not through the whole town, not in any home, and specially not this House. All were fast asleep. The night was still and dark, colder than most. Clear and crisp air cloaked the nimble shadow that crept to the side door. The doorlock was plied with a softly glowing key that was burnished by centuries of careful use.
The Family was sleeping, but only hours ago they had all been feverishly working. Laughter, gaiety, and warmth filled the House as they had all gathered round to apply the finishing touches to the House's decorations. At last, the final fragile ornament, a beautifully painted pastel-tinted egg, hung upon the spindly dogwood. All the eggs dangled from the branches, gently moving as they were touched by the breath of air circulating through the room; it was a picture reminiscent of that tree from paradise, the fruit gently hanging from its branches, swaying in the soft breeze of the garden. In spite of itself, the little dogwood practically bloomed in the bright, cheerful light of the Family's glowing faces. The labour all finished, the family gazed on the sight once more, and then happily, excitedly lay in their beds and drifted off to sleep one by one.
Without fail, it would creak. But not this morning. It was indeed morning; still dark, still night, but that darkest and stillest part just before the first peep of light, when all seems to be most asleep. As he slowly pushed the door open to slip in to the Family's mudroom. He took in the sight carefully, noting the little pairs of boots all lined up and caked with yesterday's mud. "Yes, it was good that I packed carefully." He even thought in a whisper, lest he disturb the sleepers and rouse someone to spy out his mission. He stole into the center of the house to find the dogwood just where he knew it would be. Silently, he lowered his knapsack to the floor and spread out the gifts, placing them gently and quickly under the tree. Soon there was a pile of baskets crowded under the tree, a pile that belied the size of both the knapsack and the Rabbit that carried it. Then he was gone.
The sky had barely turned a faded greenish navy hue when Boy's eyes flashed open. It had come! Morning was here! They must hurry if they are to be on time. Ever so quickly, he rushes to rouse the rest of the House, to find only little Sister still asleep. Get up! Get dressed! It will never do to be late to the sunrise service. The sun would not wait for them. And afterwards, oh! the scrumptious breakfast, the hot cross buns, the Easter Egg hunt, oh, such surprises this morning always held.
And the tree. Boy almost forgot all about the tree. Then he heard a faint sound from the living room, and it all came back to him. Did they come? He had to go see; there was even less time to waste now than ever. He rushed hurriedly to finish, he ran to the room that held the best surprise of all, and almost doubtingly entered the room. He hesitated as he looked across the scene, for it was as if this room were sacred. But Mother and Dad were there, they seemed satisfied, ready, waiting. It was true. All the gifts he had hoped for, all the celebration for which he'd patiently and eagerly waited so many weeks; they were there. And the tree; the tree stood silently, but growing brighter as the rising morning light pushed the Family out the door.
Oh, friends. Would this day mean anything without the tree? Had the tree not come, certainly the fruit would not have come; certainly the Seed would never have held such promise. Could the real Son have come, had not the tree come?
_______________________________________
This is satire. If you don't get it, do not assume that it is simple fiction.
The Family was sleeping, but only hours ago they had all been feverishly working. Laughter, gaiety, and warmth filled the House as they had all gathered round to apply the finishing touches to the House's decorations. At last, the final fragile ornament, a beautifully painted pastel-tinted egg, hung upon the spindly dogwood. All the eggs dangled from the branches, gently moving as they were touched by the breath of air circulating through the room; it was a picture reminiscent of that tree from paradise, the fruit gently hanging from its branches, swaying in the soft breeze of the garden. In spite of itself, the little dogwood practically bloomed in the bright, cheerful light of the Family's glowing faces. The labour all finished, the family gazed on the sight once more, and then happily, excitedly lay in their beds and drifted off to sleep one by one.
Without fail, it would creak. But not this morning. It was indeed morning; still dark, still night, but that darkest and stillest part just before the first peep of light, when all seems to be most asleep. As he slowly pushed the door open to slip in to the Family's mudroom. He took in the sight carefully, noting the little pairs of boots all lined up and caked with yesterday's mud. "Yes, it was good that I packed carefully." He even thought in a whisper, lest he disturb the sleepers and rouse someone to spy out his mission. He stole into the center of the house to find the dogwood just where he knew it would be. Silently, he lowered his knapsack to the floor and spread out the gifts, placing them gently and quickly under the tree. Soon there was a pile of baskets crowded under the tree, a pile that belied the size of both the knapsack and the Rabbit that carried it. Then he was gone.
The sky had barely turned a faded greenish navy hue when Boy's eyes flashed open. It had come! Morning was here! They must hurry if they are to be on time. Ever so quickly, he rushes to rouse the rest of the House, to find only little Sister still asleep. Get up! Get dressed! It will never do to be late to the sunrise service. The sun would not wait for them. And afterwards, oh! the scrumptious breakfast, the hot cross buns, the Easter Egg hunt, oh, such surprises this morning always held.
And the tree. Boy almost forgot all about the tree. Then he heard a faint sound from the living room, and it all came back to him. Did they come? He had to go see; there was even less time to waste now than ever. He rushed hurriedly to finish, he ran to the room that held the best surprise of all, and almost doubtingly entered the room. He hesitated as he looked across the scene, for it was as if this room were sacred. But Mother and Dad were there, they seemed satisfied, ready, waiting. It was true. All the gifts he had hoped for, all the celebration for which he'd patiently and eagerly waited so many weeks; they were there. And the tree; the tree stood silently, but growing brighter as the rising morning light pushed the Family out the door.
Oh, friends. Would this day mean anything without the tree? Had the tree not come, certainly the fruit would not have come; certainly the Seed would never have held such promise. Could the real Son have come, had not the tree come?
_______________________________________
This is satire. If you don't get it, do not assume that it is simple fiction.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
"You told me to clean my room, but I didn't."
*Grumble grumble*
"I just can't help it. I sin all the time, and I even know better!"
*Grumble grumble*
Seriously? If we are God's children, this is an absolutely ridiculous idea. Imagine telling this to your parents....
"Mom, I just can't help it. I disobey you all the time -- you told me to run to the grocery store for you, and I got in the car and drove to the videogame store and never did pick up your groceries -- I even knew better!"
or,
"Dad, I know you told me to clean my room, but I didn't. Instead, I called my friend up and went over to his house to hang out. I couldn't help it!"
It wouldn't fly. You might manage to say it...before you got taken to the woodshed and punished for being flagrantly disobedient and rebellious.
God isn't an unreasonable Father. We have no reason to complain about what He asks us to do, and we have no reason not to do what He asks us to do.
Don't tell me that you can have sin in your life and still be pleasing to God. It's not true.
"And ye know that he was manifested to take away our sins; and in him is no sin. Whosoever abideth in him sinneth not: whosoever sinneth hath not seen him, neither known him." (I John 3:5-6)
"I just can't help it. I sin all the time, and I even know better!"
*Grumble grumble*
Seriously? If we are God's children, this is an absolutely ridiculous idea. Imagine telling this to your parents....
"Mom, I just can't help it. I disobey you all the time -- you told me to run to the grocery store for you, and I got in the car and drove to the videogame store and never did pick up your groceries -- I even knew better!"
or,
"Dad, I know you told me to clean my room, but I didn't. Instead, I called my friend up and went over to his house to hang out. I couldn't help it!"
It wouldn't fly. You might manage to say it...before you got taken to the woodshed and punished for being flagrantly disobedient and rebellious.
God isn't an unreasonable Father. We have no reason to complain about what He asks us to do, and we have no reason not to do what He asks us to do.
Don't tell me that you can have sin in your life and still be pleasing to God. It's not true.
"And ye know that he was manifested to take away our sins; and in him is no sin. Whosoever abideth in him sinneth not: whosoever sinneth hath not seen him, neither known him." (I John 3:5-6)
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
WE Are That Tree!
Jesus could come back. He could come back right now – we’d be caught up in the air with Him, and everything would be “happily ever after,” wouldn’t it? But I when I think that Jesus could come back, my heart aches with sorrow. I want Him to come; I really do; but not yet. Please don’t come yet. Not now when we’re all dead, not now when there’s so many who are still living in sin, not now when oh so many would go to hell, not now when there’s still some chance for us to repent.
God, I love the church. She’s your body, your bride. I love her so much, but she’s dying – dead in sin and loving worldly pleasures – please don’t come back yet. Oh, won’t you be merciful a little while longer? I don’t want all those people to perish; but they will if you come back, because you are righteous and a just judge.
“For the time is come that judgment must begin at the house of God: and if it first begin at us, what shall the end be of them that obey not the gospel of God? And if the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?”
But Lord, what if WE are not righteous? If we are ungodly and sinful, how can we even stand – must we not perish along with the rest? We ARE ungodly and sinful. Lord, help us! We must not stay like this; we must be godly, we must be righteous – we need You. We must have revival or we shall die, because we are already dead as it is.
"A certain man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came and sought fruit thereon, and found none. Then said he unto the dresser of his vineyard, Behold, these three years I come seeking fruit on this fig tree, and find none: cut it down; why encumbereth it the ground? And he answering said unto him, Lord, let it alone this year also, till I shall dig about it, and dung it: and if it bear fruit, well: and if not, then after that thou shalt cut it down."
Friends, enemies, people, everyone! WE are that tree! We ought to be serving the Lord, we ought to be bearing the fruit of the Spirit, we ought to be obedient, we ought to have done so by now. But no, we are still disobedient, always rebelling, doing as we know we shouldn’t; regularly bearing bad fruit. WE ARE IN DANGER OF GETTING CHOPPED DOWN! You must change, you must repent, or you shall perish. You must forsake all sin, everything that is not pure, everything that is any less than pure, undefiled religion, all world-likeness – you must turn to God, you must turn and follow Jesus whole-heartedly. Nothing less than ALL is acceptable. You must obey Him in everything, or you might as well forget about it.
Oh, Jesus! How many years have you dug around us, fertilized us, and yet we still haven’t born fruit!?
God, I love the church. She’s your body, your bride. I love her so much, but she’s dying – dead in sin and loving worldly pleasures – please don’t come back yet. Oh, won’t you be merciful a little while longer? I don’t want all those people to perish; but they will if you come back, because you are righteous and a just judge.
“For the time is come that judgment must begin at the house of God: and if it first begin at us, what shall the end be of them that obey not the gospel of God? And if the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?”
But Lord, what if WE are not righteous? If we are ungodly and sinful, how can we even stand – must we not perish along with the rest? We ARE ungodly and sinful. Lord, help us! We must not stay like this; we must be godly, we must be righteous – we need You. We must have revival or we shall die, because we are already dead as it is.
"A certain man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came and sought fruit thereon, and found none. Then said he unto the dresser of his vineyard, Behold, these three years I come seeking fruit on this fig tree, and find none: cut it down; why encumbereth it the ground? And he answering said unto him, Lord, let it alone this year also, till I shall dig about it, and dung it: and if it bear fruit, well: and if not, then after that thou shalt cut it down."
Friends, enemies, people, everyone! WE are that tree! We ought to be serving the Lord, we ought to be bearing the fruit of the Spirit, we ought to be obedient, we ought to have done so by now. But no, we are still disobedient, always rebelling, doing as we know we shouldn’t; regularly bearing bad fruit. WE ARE IN DANGER OF GETTING CHOPPED DOWN! You must change, you must repent, or you shall perish. You must forsake all sin, everything that is not pure, everything that is any less than pure, undefiled religion, all world-likeness – you must turn to God, you must turn and follow Jesus whole-heartedly. Nothing less than ALL is acceptable. You must obey Him in everything, or you might as well forget about it.
Oh, Jesus! How many years have you dug around us, fertilized us, and yet we still haven’t born fruit!?
Monday, February 8, 2010
What Have We Become?
What have we become!?
We complain about divorce rates being higher than ever before, crime being rampant, society being inundated with immorality. But WHAT HAVE WE DONE? What of us!? We look at ourselves – the church – and then complain about the same things; divorce rates are high, crime and immorality are at an all-time high. We’ve become just like the world, and just like the world, we are dead. We are not a sick church that might be nursed back to health….would to God that was so! But the church is DEAD. So dead, and we don’t even realize it. There are a few, ever so few and oh so far between, that urgently rush through the field of Christendom, examining the bodies strewn about, desperately trying to find one that is still alive, but to no avail. One corpse will moan, and the survivor will rush over in hopes that he’s found someone else still alive, but it’s dead; another will twitch, and the searcher will shout with joy and run to its side, but it’s not alive. One church wears a t-shirt that says “I’m ALIVE,” but it’s just as cold as the rest; some are lying down; some sit up, propped up against others; some even still stand, but as a tottering mannequin, and not as a living soul. The survivor still looks, but as far as he can see, there is little hope. How can there be any hope in such a situation as this?
God, we need a miracle. You’re the only one who can raise the dead. I can’t love the church even a tenth as much as you – you’ve got to do something! If we have not because we ask not, then Lord I’m asking. We need revival so badly. No. we need YOU. You are the breath of life; You are the living word; You alone are life. Only if we are in You can we ever be revived. We need your Holy Spirit; we need Your rivers of living water to flood this place; we need to You to raise the dead.
The wages of sin is death. And oh, how we’ve earned it! We make excuse for sin yesterday, today, and all the tomorrows to come. We preach that actual holiness is not required to see God. We teach that sin is an inevitable part of even a Christian’s life. We say that God overlooks our constant and ongoing sin. We have a hundred thousand reasons why we can’t possibly be righteous. And so we find that we practice what we preach. Sin. But sin must NOT be allowed. Sin is NOT okay. Sin is NOT acceptable nor excusable, nor can it have ANY place with godliness. Sin is the cause of death. There isn't any other reason for death -- spiritual death especially. How can the church possibly be alive if it's not obedient, if it's not righteous, if it's not holy; how can the church be alive if it's sinful? Of all the things that it might be – it might be warm, friendly, casual, open, or any other positive adjective we might care to use, if the church is sinful, the one thing it can't possibly be is alive.
We have GOT to change. You, friend, have got to change. If we go on as we are, we shall surely taste brimstone, just as Sodom did.
God, we must have revival. We must have revival or judgment. But Lord have mercy, for we cannot stand in judgment; we would stand wretched, miserable, poor, blind, and naked. Let us come to buy gold from You, to procure white clothes, to find a little eye salve so we might see.
Let us be zealous and REPENT! We MUST have life, and it MUST come from God. Let’s go to Him, and perhaps it is not too late; perhaps He might still yet let us taste of His holy waters; perhaps He might be merciful. But we must go to Him, we must, and we dare not delay.
We complain about divorce rates being higher than ever before, crime being rampant, society being inundated with immorality. But WHAT HAVE WE DONE? What of us!? We look at ourselves – the church – and then complain about the same things; divorce rates are high, crime and immorality are at an all-time high. We’ve become just like the world, and just like the world, we are dead. We are not a sick church that might be nursed back to health….would to God that was so! But the church is DEAD. So dead, and we don’t even realize it. There are a few, ever so few and oh so far between, that urgently rush through the field of Christendom, examining the bodies strewn about, desperately trying to find one that is still alive, but to no avail. One corpse will moan, and the survivor will rush over in hopes that he’s found someone else still alive, but it’s dead; another will twitch, and the searcher will shout with joy and run to its side, but it’s not alive. One church wears a t-shirt that says “I’m ALIVE,” but it’s just as cold as the rest; some are lying down; some sit up, propped up against others; some even still stand, but as a tottering mannequin, and not as a living soul. The survivor still looks, but as far as he can see, there is little hope. How can there be any hope in such a situation as this?
God, we need a miracle. You’re the only one who can raise the dead. I can’t love the church even a tenth as much as you – you’ve got to do something! If we have not because we ask not, then Lord I’m asking. We need revival so badly. No. we need YOU. You are the breath of life; You are the living word; You alone are life. Only if we are in You can we ever be revived. We need your Holy Spirit; we need Your rivers of living water to flood this place; we need to You to raise the dead.
The wages of sin is death. And oh, how we’ve earned it! We make excuse for sin yesterday, today, and all the tomorrows to come. We preach that actual holiness is not required to see God. We teach that sin is an inevitable part of even a Christian’s life. We say that God overlooks our constant and ongoing sin. We have a hundred thousand reasons why we can’t possibly be righteous. And so we find that we practice what we preach. Sin. But sin must NOT be allowed. Sin is NOT okay. Sin is NOT acceptable nor excusable, nor can it have ANY place with godliness. Sin is the cause of death. There isn't any other reason for death -- spiritual death especially. How can the church possibly be alive if it's not obedient, if it's not righteous, if it's not holy; how can the church be alive if it's sinful? Of all the things that it might be – it might be warm, friendly, casual, open, or any other positive adjective we might care to use, if the church is sinful, the one thing it can't possibly be is alive.
We have GOT to change. You, friend, have got to change. If we go on as we are, we shall surely taste brimstone, just as Sodom did.
God, we must have revival. We must have revival or judgment. But Lord have mercy, for we cannot stand in judgment; we would stand wretched, miserable, poor, blind, and naked. Let us come to buy gold from You, to procure white clothes, to find a little eye salve so we might see.
Let us be zealous and REPENT! We MUST have life, and it MUST come from God. Let’s go to Him, and perhaps it is not too late; perhaps He might still yet let us taste of His holy waters; perhaps He might be merciful. But we must go to Him, we must, and we dare not delay.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Become a Better Christian in 1 Easy Step
Pick up your cup of coffee. That's it. It's that easy.CBS News reports that holding a warm object (namely, a cup of coffee) makes you a happier, more generous, trusting, and favourable person. What do Christians like more than to have coffee, especially in church? And now science has finally seen the light -- having that cup of coffee (you don't even have to drink it!) makes you a better Christian!
Don't believe me? Read my entire post Warm Hands, Warm Heart on Nick the Geek's blog.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Love, As an Emotion
Love, as an emotion, is kind of a weird thing to think about.
Love is something that is deep and abiding, like a current in the ocean as opposed to a whitecap that forms when the wind blows and then disappears just as quickly. Love is the little “me” inside that is overflowing with enthusiastic excitement, and is dying just to be let out of his cage just so he can hold your hand and walk with you in the park. Love is the flesh of the wound that is inflicted when I hurt someone. Love feels grief, pain, and loneliness intensely; love softens the wounds of hatred, malice, and sharp remarks.
But love is not an emotion. All those emotions follow love like a bumper sticker, but love is not feeling. Love is a choice. Love is action. Love is deliberate; love is habitual. Love is so closely tied up with trust, honesty, and truth, that sometimes it seems hard to tell the one from the other. Love is boring at times, sometimes even drudgery, because love is working towards the greatest good, and that work is not always sunshine and roses. Love is bold and courageous, because I really have nothing to lose but myself, and love is not selfish.
Love is something that is deep and abiding, like a current in the ocean as opposed to a whitecap that forms when the wind blows and then disappears just as quickly. Love is the little “me” inside that is overflowing with enthusiastic excitement, and is dying just to be let out of his cage just so he can hold your hand and walk with you in the park. Love is the flesh of the wound that is inflicted when I hurt someone. Love feels grief, pain, and loneliness intensely; love softens the wounds of hatred, malice, and sharp remarks.
But love is not an emotion. All those emotions follow love like a bumper sticker, but love is not feeling. Love is a choice. Love is action. Love is deliberate; love is habitual. Love is so closely tied up with trust, honesty, and truth, that sometimes it seems hard to tell the one from the other. Love is boring at times, sometimes even drudgery, because love is working towards the greatest good, and that work is not always sunshine and roses. Love is bold and courageous, because I really have nothing to lose but myself, and love is not selfish.
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