Never Forget . . .

I had the honor and privilege recently of having a long, tear-filled conversation with someone who has struggled with same-sex attraction. They have literally taken a bullet, and watched a friend die by the bullet, of someone who simply hated gays. They shared how, without a legal commitment of relationship, the family of someone they loved (and had loved for decades) could cut them off from even seeing that person in the hospital if that person was unconscious. They shared how they couldn't find the depth of love in someone of the opposite sex they found in someone of the same. They shared their deep longing to love and be loved and to not grow old alone.

We talked. We listened to one another. We honored one another with listening and trying to hear one another's hearts. It was an amazing experience.

I still believe the Bible is clear about God's stand on homosexuality. I still believe that we, as Christians, can't legitimatize by law something we believe God says is sin. But it was a powerful reminder to me—one I hope I never forget—that this whole battle (or any battle, for that matter, be it abortion, etc.) is not about "them." The "them" are (granted there are extremists on both sides who make a genuine discussion hard), but the "them" are people with feelings, people who love, people who often want to please God, people who are hurt. They are real people and if we ever forget that, and walk not in love (which doesn't mean compromise), then no matter how correct our theology is, we will not be representing God.

I talked extensively about this with our fellowship yesterday, and I felt God bring two questions to my mind. They are questions the church must grapple with if we want God to wash this nation with His Holy Spirit (and I believe that is the only answer for us, that the individuals in this nation choose to love and obey Him above all else). Those two questions were:

1. I, who am so passionate and patriotic about America, am I even more passionate and "patriotic" about the true nation I am a citizen of, the eternal nation, the holy nation, that is God's Kingdom, His body, and about the eternal effects of it expanding and reigning or not?

2. I, who am so indignant about our nation's laws and direction, am I even more indignant and passionate and vocal about God's laws in my own life and within the church?

I do not believe God will pour out the only true answer—His Holy Spirit that draws men unto Jesus—if the church is not passionate about Him, about eternity, about holiness and purity in our own lives and ranks first. Why would He?

Nothing  I am saying here is a call to compromise on what we believe is true and right before God, who does declare some things as true and right. But it is a call to never forget. To never, ever forget. That our enemy is not flesh and blood. That the "them" are real people whom God loves, with hurts and hopes and needs that are real and deep, with tears that flow like ours do, and hearts that hurt like ours do. May we live and love like Jesus. May we be humble and broken in our hearts toward our own sins and violations of God's laws, and living toward others as one saved only by the grace of God to another.

May we never forget the tears. God doesn't, and won't. Rather, it says, He will one day Himself wipe them from our eyes.

I am deeply concerned about this nation, and the nation I will hand my children and their children. I am deeply concerned it not longer puts God or His heart as the top of its list. I am concerned by it, and grieved by it, and I intend to continue to teach and live what I believe is truth. But as I do, in these days ahead, if I ever have to error, may it be on the side of love. May I love with a passion born of God's love for me and my love for Him. May I love in a way that the lost, the hurting, the confused find in me such a picture of His love that they run into His arms, and find their a Holy Spirit willing and ready and eager to lead and guide them down the road into His truth.

May I never forget the tears.

Frisbees and Faith

Yesterday I posted on "Posture of the Heart"—a topic God has been showing our Men's Group about the relationship and balance between humility and meekness, and boldness and confidence and authority. These qualities are contradictory in the same person in a person of the world, but essential in a Christian.

On Thursday night I shared this topic with our youth group and I used the following example to help them understand it (I did this before I told them what we'd be studying): I took the youth group outside to our back parking lot, a large, mowed "field" in most people's eyes. I picked a young lady who I thought could throw a frisbee decently, and a young man who I figured could throw it farther. I had the young lady take a couple of throws for practice and then the young man. I was right in that he threw farther then her each time. I then, casually, teased another young man who I'd had in the field retrieving for me and I said, "You look bored," and I threw it far over his head, at least twice as far as the farthest throw either youth grouper had made (I played frisbee every day in high school).

I then gave the two youth groupers who I'd had throw a hypothetical situation, telling them I wasn't encouraging gambling, but asking them to imagine they both had $5 they could bet, and they'd get three times that amount back if they won. The bet? They would each get two throws and could pick their farthest throw, and the farthest one was the winner. I first asked the girl how much she'd bet of her $5 that her farthest throw would be farther than his farthest throw. Her answer: "Is zero an option?"

I then asked him and he said he'd bet it all. I nodded then changed it up. I said to the girl, "How about you and I partner? You take one of your throws and I'll  take the other, and the farthest of those two will be your farthest throw?" The boy promptly (and good naturedly) complained it wasn't fair, and she promptly decided to bet her full $5. He decided to bet nothing.

We then went inside and sat in our usual circle on the carpet and talked about it, and I believe the youth saw the concept that the girl had the humility and meekness to recognize what she could (and couldn't) do—to be honest with herself, about herself. And in that humility and meekness she was able to partner with one far stronger and more equipped then her, and that partnership gave her tremendous confidence and boldness. Had she been overconfident or arrogant about her abilities she'd probably have bet and lost it all on herself, but she wasn't. She was honest about herself and her weaknesses, and that opened her up for the colaboring partnership. And, as such, she was the blend of humility and meekness, with confidence and boldness, that God asks of us in our relationship with Him.

As I wrote in yesterday's post, that is our walk of faith—an honesty that recognizes our weaknesses, our tendency to temptation, our inability to do it on our own; and the resulting placing of our trust into God and His promises for us and presence with us. As such we can be humble and loving and serving to others, and yet confident and authoritative in the calling and words and stand God calls us to take with and for Him.

Hopefully this example helps. I believe it did for the youth. God bless all of you, and thanks for sharing in my life.   —Erick

Posture of the Heart

Over the last couple of months our Men's Group has been talking about the posture of the heart God desires in Godly men. I don't think what we've seen is limited to men alone, and I wanted to share it with you.

In a nutshell I believe we've seen that God requires His people to walk in a mixture of humility and love and service, but also in confidence and boldness and authority. In the world's economy those things are contradictory and even Jekyll and Hyde "ish"—but in God's kingdom the two are mutually dependent on the other, and essential. It has been fascinating to see how these both work together.

We looked first at Moses, a man the Bible calls the meekest of men. And yet God called him to a place of tremendous boldness (who else, but Moses, would have been most aware of what he would face in facing Pharaoh . . . of Pharaoh's power, his army, his magicians' dark power?). Each time Moses at the burning bush (Exodus 3 and 4) brought up to God a weakness of his (of Moses') God didn't deny that weakness or boost Moses' self-esteem, but rather God met Moses' weakness with a promise of God's presence and provision and leading. It was at the end when Moses kept trying to get out of it and focus on his own weaknesses that God finally got angry at Moses. It is as if in His anger God has said, "Moses, you are meek, and you have weakness, but I have met each moment of such with a promise, and you are, in a nutshell, saying that I am not enough."

It is important that we see that God never tried to boost Moses' self-esteem, or tell him he was the man with the plan and skill. If Moses thought he was Mr. Right for the job he would have failed, but in his weakness God could offer him His strength and presence, and in reliance on that and not himself, Moses could walk in tremendous confidence and boldness before Pharaoh, ocean obstacles, and grumbling Israelites.

Beyond Moses we've looked at New Testament passages that call us to humble ourselves, and they come with the promise that God will lift us up. When God lifts us up we can stand in tremendous confidence and boldness when we are standing in what He has called us to do or be, whether it is to speak His words or to confront the hosts of darkness—but He won't lift us up until we humble ourselves. He actually promises to resist/oppose the proud. So . . . to be proud in our own strength causes God to work against us, which should scare us a lot; but to be humble about ourselves causes God to lift us up, which gives us every reason for confidence!

We then looked at David who was tremendously humble and broken before God (see Psalm 51), and yet bold and unapologetic toward man (see 2 Samuel 6:16–23 when his wife mocks him for worshipping God exuberantly). God gives David the highest honor known to man, to call David a man after God's own heart. And we see in David a man humble before God, dependent upon God, deeply aware of his own sin and failings—and a man who, when standing in the place God called Him to stand, was bold, confident, authoritative, and a worshipper and leader beyond measurer. Again, the "paradox" of Godly men (and women): humility in evaluating self and seeing self against others, but confidence in being who God called him to be, confident in God and not Himself.

We see the same thing in Paul who was deeply aware of his own sin and shortcomings, but who stood in his calling with authority, confronting enemies of the church and the hosts of darkness with boldness and confidence and God's power. We see it in Jesus who spoke not a word in His own defense, but spoke with authority and stood with confidence against the enemies of His Father's message and against the forces of darkness.

Perhaps one of the clearest examples of this "paradox" is seen in the Centurion (Matthew 8:5–10) about whom God paid another highest of all compliments. Of him Jesus said he'd seen no faith to match his in all of Israel (and the Centurion was a Roman!). When the Centurion asked Jesus to heal his servant and Jesus said He'd come to the his house to do so the Centurion replied, "Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof, but only say the word, and my servant will be healed. For I too am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. And I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes, and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it."

We see here tremendous humility in an obvious way (I am not worthy), and also in a way we may first miss. What is the key to authority the Centurion reveals? It is that to be a man in authority, we must be a man under authority. For example, I could not give you a speeding ticket on my own, but if I was submitted to the government as a police officer (one under authority) I would have the delegated authority of that position. Leaders in the military or workplace are similar. They have the authority they are given by the one they are, themselves, under. So, again, here is that amazing "paradox" at work (and essential) in God's Kingdom: when we humble ourselves and submit ourselves to God's authority, we then walk in God's authority as God's servants and called ones. First comes the humility that recognizes our brokeness and need of God and recognizes God's Lordship and worthiness of our surrender, and from that comes the calling to walk as men (and women) called of God in the positions He calls us to—leaders, those called to speak His truths and proclaim Him, confronters of the demonic, etc.We could go on and on with more examples—what about Gideon who said he was the least when called by God and to whom God didn't deny that, but rather promised His presence and then called Gideon to stand, 300 against over 100,000.

But in the end, to wrap it up, I see that this paradox is exactly the call to walk in faith that is on our lives as Christians. What is faith? It is the recognition of our weakness and need and inability to do it on our own (be it salvation, or daily strength). That recognition makes us humble and gentle towards others in any sense in which we must deal with them as servants, neighbors, etc. But then, in faith, we place our trust and confidence in God—God!—God who breathes out stars!—and in that trust we find tremendous confidence and authority and boldness in any and every area He has called us, be it speaking His truth and words, standing on His promises, or confronting darkness, because it is not our "strength" we stand in or our "authority" we confront in, but rather in the strength and authority of the one we have ourselves submitted to.

Because It Pleases Him . . . Is That Enough?

Once I was in a position where I spent many hours in a car just listening to the talk of those around me. They were people who I had been ministering to for some time (years in some cases), and who I was taking to a Christian event (I am being intentionally vague). As I listened to them I could reflect on the priorities of their hearts, as was reflected by what consumed their conversation and what seemed to excite them, and I found myself wondering, “Is there any hope? It seems like God is so little a part of their lives and conversation—and their interests—and the things that consume their time and energy and passion seem so removed from Him . . .” As I listened I got really down and began to wonder, “What is it all about? Am I doing any good?” It seemed that the world and its lures was so overwhelmingly dominate in their lives, and that God was just a spoke on their wheel instead of its hub . . . One who was rarely even mentioned.

Later at the event, in a worship setting, I was behind many of them, watching them and reflecting and my heart was sad. Then, it was as if God started taking me down the line, one by one. He started reminding me of a role I had played in each of their lives—a time in each of their lives I had stood with them through some tremendous pain they were going through personally, or because of choices in their families. They each seemed so confident now, and “all together,” but I knew that in each of their lives, at a private time, there had been pain, uncertainty, tears, and fear. There were some amazingly hard times I had been through in their lives with them . . . and the thing was, few of them knew anything about those times in the lives of the ones they were standing next to. I realized that, in a quiet way, Jesus had allowed me to be His hands and feet and words in most of their lives . . . and no one but Him, them, and Mary Ann would ever know. (Note: It wasn't just His voice I heard—the enemy was quick to remind me, as well, of all the times I fell short in people's lives, all the times I was selfish and didn't minister when I could have, and all the times I just blew it.)

As I reflected, I realized that, for most of those in front of me, I probably wouldn’t be there to see the moment when God broke through for them and became not just a belief and a theology, but the center of their lives. I had been privileged to play a small part in it—to stand with them, hold them, comfort them, and show them Him for a moment. But, for so many, when the pain had become a distant thing, the world had pulled them back toward it. Yet, I knew that I wasn’t responsible for their choices, but had been faithful when asked. It was then like He asked me (or, I asked myself?), “Is that enough?”

I don’t share any of this to lift me up—each and every one of you have been there for people and touched people’s lives in quiet, but powerful ways—I share this more as a point of reflection for us, because I think that we all face the same question(s) as we seek to serve God. As the Spirit prompted that question, “Is that enough?”, I had to answer it in my heart. I had to face the question and wonder, “Am I OK with no one knowing the half of what I do or have done, and with maybe not even having it appreciated over the long haul by those I ministered to?” Then came the second half, “Am I OK just being obedient and being a part of their journey—being a surrendered vessel which Jesus was able to fill and use in their life to show them a little bit of Him—even if it means I don’t get to share in the joy of their final turning to God in total surrender some day, or even if I never get the encouragement of knowing that they have given their lives to Him?”

It was then that the question became fully apparent to me, “Is it enough?” Is it enough that only God knows what I have done, and that He is pleased—or do I need to see results, do I need others to know, do I need to promote myself and defend myself? Is it enough to have Jesus smile and quietly whisper, “I know. Thank you.”. . . which, in the end, really means the question is, “Is He enough?” Is it enough for me to love and serve my Master, without the world ever thanking me, or without even ever knowing if it made a difference, and without ever being considered a great pastor, without my blog ever having a huge following, or without my ever having a name that is known outside its little boundaries?

Some time back at Hume Lake Christian Camp where I was with some youth, Moi was the band and a song of theirs, It Pleases You, caught fire over the weekend and became the essence of the weekend. The core of the song talks about yielding our life to Him and it has the chorus, “It may not make a difference, it may not change a single life, it may not move a single stone, but it pleases You, it pleases You, it pleases You, it pleases You, oh cause it pleases You, cause it pleases You, I come, I come, I come.”

Is it enough—because it pleases Him? Is He enough? Or do I need more. It is a question I have to reflect on not just once, but I have to return to repeatedly as the world seeks to draw me away as well.

The Surrender in Christmas . . .

Hello All! I hope that this finds you well and your hearts being prepared more and more each day for the amazing day we call Christmas. We had a nice couple of days last week visiting Mary Ann's family in the Los Angeles area for a homeschool trip we took with the girls (and, yes, rest well, I was able to spend some good time studying in a coffee shop near her mom's house). We got to visit the La Brea tar pits (the outside grounds because there was a power outage and the museum itself was closed) and the Griffith Observatory (our family must have looked pretty funny counting to three and then jumping up and down as hard as we could to try and get the seismograph to register our movement!).

I put a few pictures here from our trip for you to enjoy it with us. They are: 1) The girls in front of the La Brea "lake" display, 2) Mary Ann and the girls at the observatory model of the size of some stars—our sun would be the size of one of the tiny yellow dots straight above Abigail's head if the large yellow and red balls represented some of the giant and super giant stars out there, 3) Me next to the scale that informed me I would weigh over 500 pounds on Jupiter (I think I'm staying home!).

Christmas is almost here, and as I shared with our fellowship yesterday, I just can't grasp or wrap myself around the fact that the God who breathes out stars and holds the universe in His hand is also the baby in the manger . . . that the baby in the manger is also the Lion of the tribe of Judah and the One before whom demons tremble . . . that God is surrounded on the throne by the multitudes of angels and hosts of heaven worshiping Him in the glory He deserves and yet He came to earth, laid in a manger, greeted by shepherds, hunted, mutilated, murdered—by choice, for us, His rebellious creation.

I can't grasp that. Any words fall so short of its majesty and love. But one thing that I do grasp about it comes from Philippians 2:5-8 which says: Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.

Surrendering our rights is a hallmark of Christianity and the only true way we can, I believe, reflect Christ's image and truly model the heart that made Christmas. It is not easy in a society that prides itself on individual rights, but that is probably why it stands out as such contrast from everyone else when it is done. It is hard because, by the very nature of the word, they are our rights. But Jesus, who had every right as God, didn't hold on to His rights but surrendered them and came to earth as one of us to be subject to our same temptations and limitations and dependence on the Holy Spirit. He who had every right to judge us, to stay in heaven where He was worshiped and recognized, to obliterate His attackers, gave it all up, by choice, of His own free will, in love. He laid His rights down at His Father's feet that His Father's will might be done and His Father glorified.

I don't think we can truly capture, or model, the heart of Christmas until we capture, and model, the heart of surrendered rights. Yes, we have a "right" to be apologized to, a right to freedom, a right to be acknowledged, a right to be heard, a right to be comfortable, a right to justice when we are wronged, a right to . . . but until we are willing to lay our rights down at the Father's feet we will never live as Jesus lived. This doesn't mean, say, as parents that we contradict other parts of God's Word that tell us to be heads of our home and to train up our children, or that we contradict other parts of His Word, but it does mean that if we are to truly show the world Christ, and Christmas, we have to be willing to say, "Yes, that is my right to ____, but I chose to surrender that right and humble myself, in love, for my Father and for another." It is only when we let go of our tight cling to this life and its comforts and "rights" that we will truly live a life focused from heaven, to earth, as Jesus did. The only way to show heaven to earth, and to show the Father's heart to man, is to live as in heaven and as the Father, and that is modeled, in Christmas, with surrender.

Note: Please still consider answering my request to you in the post: So, You've Been Given the Pulpit . . . Christmas. I would truly treasure your answers, and I believe others would be blessed by them as well as you being blessed by the prayer and thought it would require.