Or is “Grace” God’s first, middle, and last name? Perhaps God is Grace from beginning to end?
A friend (who is also my twelve-step sponsor) sent me the following link: https://www-nytimes-com.cdn.ampproject.org/c/s/www.nytimes.com/2018/12/23/opinion/grace-jesus-christmas-christianity.amp.html.
I am not sure whether or not my sponsor realized how much I’ve been struggling with depression the past few days. Specifically, I’ve been wondering if God’s grace is truly enough for me. I’m probably the only person in the world who wonders that, right?
If you ever struggle with depression at this or any time of year, if you ever feel like an outsider, you need use the link (pasted above) to connect with the article by Peter Wehner.
Who knows? Maybe God is gracious after all. Maybe this link will help to link you to this Gracious God.
DTEB, “A NEW CARD GAME: MENTAL GOLF”
Thursday, December 20, 2018
I have not been happy with my thought life for the past couple of days. My thoughts have not been entirely off the rails, but many of my thoughts have not been God-honoring thoughts, either. Gluttonous thoughts, excessively angry and fearful thoughts, lustful thoughts, envious thoughts, worried thoughts, self-pitying thoughts—what a messy mind I have at times! I wonder why I have so many problems with my mind? Or is really helpful to ask why?
Perhaps I should stop asking why, and instead play a sort-of mental “golf” card game. Golf—when you’re talking about cards—is a game for two or more persons. The goal is to have the lowest score possible (or, at least, a lower score than your opponent/s). Hence the name “golf.”
In golf, you are dealt four cards. There is a “stock deck” in the middle of the table, which you cannot see, of course. You take turns substituting higher point cards in your hand for the cards in the stock deck. Sometimes you substitute a high-point card for an even higher point card, but that is the chance you take. Eventually, someone raps on the table, people reveal their cards, and the person with the lowest total points wins.
What if I regarded my thought life as a game of golf? What if I envisioned the stock deck as face up and spread out, so that I could see the point values of the various cards? Then, I could substitute a bad card in my hand for a better one from the stock deck.
When it comes to my thoughts, I can generally discern which ones are life-affirming and which ones are not. If I am aware and honest, I know what cards I have in my mind. And the good cards in the stock deck are face up.
Eventually, Death raps his knuckles on the table, and the game is over. I want to have the lowest possible score.
In a sense, the analogy is helpful to me. It turns my thought life into a game. I am much better at having fun with serious things, than I am at being serious about serious things.
In another sense, the analogy is not in line with what I believe at all. I believe that God forgives me of all my sins—even my bad thought life. In a sense, God doesn’t keep score. “If iniquities you kept, O LORD, O Lord, who could stand? But with you is forgiveness, in order that you may be feared.” (Psalm 130:3-4, my translation)
But I still want to honor God with my thoughts, as well as with my words and actions. Better thoughts will not only honor God, but also will be better for me. Better thoughts will also be good for everyone with whom I come into contact.
Today, I will play mental golf. Care to join me?
I often read some snippets from 12-step recovery books. They are published by Hazelden to help addicts like me. These excerpts are also published to get people to buy Hazelden books. If you’ve got some extra coins lying about, these books would be well worth the price, even if you’re not an addict.
One excerpt that I read this morning made me laugh. It also made me think.
“It’s hard to keep from trying to control the lives of others, especially in a family. We can learn from the man whose friend drove twenty miles to and from work on the freeway every day. ‘How can you do it?’ he asked. ‘I’ve tried, and I can’t go a mile in such traffic without screaming at the crazy drivers who cut in, go too slow, change lanes. Nobody listens. I’d lose my mind if I had to do it your way.’ His friend replied, ‘Your trouble is trying to drive every car around you. I relax and drive only one car – my own.’” (Today’s Gift, December 18, 2018)
Driving one car is difficult enough. Driving more than one? Way too much! And yet, how often I try to drive other people’s cars! To stay with the literal aspect of the metaphor for a moment, my wife is an excellent driver, much better than I am. However, when I’m riding shotgun, she has to frequently remind me that she is driving and I am not. Driving a car from the passenger’s side is not easy.
The Apostle Paul warns the believers in Rome not to try to run other people’s lives. “Don’t judge your brothers and sisters!” he warns them in chapter 14. In Romans 14:13, Paul says, “If you are going to judge at all, judge this: Judge yourself! Don’t cause your brother or sister to stumble!
There are certainly times when we have to intervene in other people’s lives, but we rarely have the courage to do that. More often, we want to intervene when it is really none of our business.
The meditation from Today’s Gift ends by asking a wonderful question: “What acts of others can I ignore today?”
Choosing to ignore how other people are doing may be a sign that we are properly concerned with what we are doing ourselves. I need to drive my own car.
I like to-do lists. They keep me on task—when I allow them to keep me on task.
However, have you ever thought that God might have something like a to-do list? Perhaps God has multiple lists, lists for each individual, for the planet collectively, lists for what to do with the entire universe.
Of course, for both good and not-so-good reasons, I am primarily concerned with God’s list for me. If God does have such a list, what might it look like?
But then, there are God’s other lists, aren’t there? Perhaps God has a list for each one of us, and for everything else in the universe?
So, God’s entries in his list for the entire human race might look pretty much the same as God’s list for me. (Not everyone has a puppy or a sweetheart.)
However, there have been times, I believe, when God puts something unusual on his to-do list. This time of year, those of us who are Christ-followers commemorate one of the most bizarre and wonderful items: God becoming flesh and dwelling among us in Jesus. Most of us who call ourselves “Christians” believe that Jesus was not simply a good man, or teacher, or even a prophet. We believe that he was an Invader from another realm.
I’m not necessary asking you to believe it. The truth of the matter is that many of us who do believe it have a difficult time believing it. We have an even harder time acting as if we believe it. But that is what we at least say we believe.
And then, God’s to-do list about thirty-years later has this entry: “Give my Son’s life as a ransom for all humanity.”
Sometimes, God has a really interesting to-do list.
“Joy is the infallible sign of the presence of God.” (Teilhard de Chardin)
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. (Philippians 4:4)
Tears are not a sign of God’s absence, but joy should be my default position. Tears and sorrow are sometimes necessary, but I should get back to joy as soon as possible. My sorrow will not automatically enhance God’s reputation or human wholeness.
And yet, I seem to be addicted to sorrow—sorry for my past evil deeds, sorrow for what I’ve thrown away, sorrow that I am not the Christ-follower I ought to be.
Today, by God’s grace, I will choose joy. I will choose joy, even if it isn’t the easiest choice for me. I will choose joy because it is more pleasant for other people to be around me when I am joy. I will be joy today. Yes! I will be joy for my own sake, for the sake of others, and for the God I serve with joy.
Today, by God’s ever-available grace, I will practice the fine art of joy. Who knows? If I practice it for a long time, I might get good at it!
I was just reading a book that I am requiring my students to read for Old Testament Theology. I had already read enough of it to know that it was an excellent book. In a section talking about the LORD as a gracious God who rescued Israel from slavery in Egypt, I was suddenly ambushed by the following sentence: “Now the gracious offer has meaning. YHWH, who promises this people to be their God, and in so doing in some sense links himself with their fortunes and misfortunes, is a most desirable deity.”[1]
A most desirable deity—yes! In spite of all the strange things that I do not understand in the Old and New Testaments, despite all the yukkiness and downright evil that is part of the church’s legacy, despite my own yukkiness and downright evil, the LORD God is a most desirable deity.
This is in stark contrast to a lot of the gods and goddesses of the ancient Near East. They were a difficult bunch to live with, even among themselves. About the best that a worshiper of Ishtar could hope for was to be left alone. She was the goddess of love and of war. It was sometimes easier to be at war with her, than it was to be loved by Ishtar. Ask Gilgamesh about that, if you doubt me.
The same God who rescued Israel from Egypt has rescued me from me. Because, you see, I was quite literally my own worst enemy. Bondage to yourself is the worst bondage of all. Slavery to yourself causes you to the slave-driver, the lash, the lasher, and the lashee.
But into my self-appointed slavery, a most desirable deity has intervened. I wish that I could embody his intense desirability much more than I do. I wish that I could tell you what a Savior God is, and also what a friend God is. I wish that I could convey to you how much fun it is to be a Christian.
I can’t. I think that these posts are my attempt to do that. But of course, God is so much more desirable than I can convey, with our without words.
However, the only way to find out how desirable God is would be for you to live with him for a long while.
When I started dating the girl who is now my new bride, I thought she was pretty nice (and also, nicely pretty). I thought I loved her. And I did, at least in some measure. But after forty-five years of marriage, I can tell you that she is most desirable wife and friend, so much more than I could ever have suspected.
Same with God.
[1] Elmer A. Martens, God’s Design: A Focus on Old Testament Theology, fourth edition (Eugene, Oregon: Wipf & Stock, 2015), 73.
DTEB, “FOLLOW THE LEADER”
Jesus had just asked his disciples about his identity. “Who do other people say that I am?” (Mark8:27) After the disciples replied, Jesus asked them another question: “What about you? Who do you say that I am?” (v. 29) Peter answered, “You are the Messiah.” (v.30)
But immediately, Jesus began to teach his disciples that he, the Messiah, must suffer and die. (v. 31)
Naturally, Peter did not like this turn of events. So, he took Jesus aside and basically said to Jesus, “Never!” (v. 32) Jesus proceeded to call Peter “Satan,” since Peter was opposing Jesus. (The word “satan” basically means “adversary.”)
It is a profoundly strange and disturbing account. If you do not find it strange and disturbing, you probably haven’t taken it very seriously.
And then, as if all this isn’t enough, Jesus calls the whole crowd and all his disciples together in order to generalize his teaching. This business of suffering and death isn’t just for Jesus. It isn’t just for Peter and the boys. It is for us all.
“34And calling the crowd to him with his disciples, he said to them, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. 35 For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it. 36 For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul? 37 For what can a man give in return for his soul? 38 For whoever is ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him will the Son of Man also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.” (Mark 8:34-38)
R. Alan Cole has some simple but wonderful words concerning Jesus’ words about taking up our cross and following him.
“So the Lord warns all the crowd, not just his professed disciples, that to follow him means to deny all natural inclinations and to ‘shoulder one’s stake’. ‘Stake’ in modern English preserves the association of shameful death better than cross does. Compare 10:39 for the equally solemn words of Jesus to James and John as to the cost of discipleship. The thought is plain to every child playing the game of ‘follow my leader’, in which there is only one rule, that no follower shirks going to any place where the leader has first gone. Ultimately, to the Christian, this following of Jesus becomes the hope of heaven, since our leader has already gone there (Heb. 6:19–20): but first comes the cross. ‘No cross, no crown’ is a pithy piece of theology which must have been ever-present in the minds of the early Christians at Rome and other centres of persecution.”[1]
But, of course, following Jesus is no child’s game, is it? Still, there really is only one rule. Cole is right about that. The rule is FOLLOW JESUS!
And where does Jesus go? He goes to the lost, to the least. He goes to help and not to judge. Eventually, he goes to the cross.
I don’t like this aspect of Christianity. I really don’t. I like feeling good. I like having my own way. I like the way of self-affirmation, rather than the way of self-denial.
On the other hand, this self-denial aspect is central to the Christian faith. And notice this: Ultimately, the goal of self-denial is that we might find ourselves in Christ. Those who deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow Jesus “save their souls.” I take it that the soul here is another term for our real, essential selves. When you decide to follow someone, the proper question is not “Are you taking me on a road that is pleasant and easy?” The question is “Are you taking me somewhere good.” The destination is the thing.
Human
wisdom says, “Get all you can while the gettin’ is good!” Jesus says the opposite. “Give up everything.” Who am I going to choose to believe?
[1]R. Alan Cole, Mark: An Introduction and Commentary, TNTC 1; 2d, IVP/Accordance electronic ed. (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1989), 211.
The other day, in my daily report to my twelve-step sponsor, I included my daily affirmation:
Today, by God’s grace, I am living a balanced and healthy life all around—spiritually, relationally, mentally, work-wise, and physically. Today, I am balance.
With a nod to one of our favorite musical groups, The Moody Blues (and their albumn “A Question of Balance”), Bob replied as follows:
“No Question of Balance?
Wishing you a well balanced day.”
Another twelve-step friend and I often pray for one another for balance. Ironically, after my e mail exchange with my sponsor, another friend pointed out something obvious this morning. It was, in fact, so obvious that I had never thought of. “Sometimes, we pursue balance in a very unbalanced way.”
True that !
Aristotle and others have lauded “the golden mean” as the ideal for human virtue. For example, go too far in the direction of courage, and you become reckless. Go too far in the direction of caution, and you become cowardly.
But what if the golden mean—that is, balance itself—becomes an unbalanced obsession? At this point, a body is in serious trouble. Obsession with balance is not balance. It is simply another obsession.
I doubt that anyone is born balanced. My wife and I had four little creatures we helped to bring into the world. I don’t remember that any of them were very balanced when they were learning to sit up. The same when they were learning to walk.
And then there were the teen years, not a stage in life known for balance for any of us.
So, how do I—how do we—pursue balance in a balanced manner? It is much easier for me to raise the question of balance than it is for me to answer it. Perhaps that, in and of itself, is an important affirmation. Perhaps my sponsor’s tongue-in-cheek allusion to The Moody Blues “A Question of Balance” is part of the answer to my dilemma concerning balance. Balance will always be a questionable quest.
That said, one possible way of thinking about balance is in terms of riding a bike. I came very late to riding a bike. I was probably in the third or fourth grade before I learned to ride.
Why was I so late learning how to ride? Now that I think about it, there were at least two reasons that were somewhat different and somewhat related.
First, I lived on a farm with uneven ground and a (sometimes) graveled driveway. Such rough terrain is not natural bike country, especially for a beginner.
I have discovered that life itself is rough terrain. There are lots of environmental realities that make balance a challenge. It is best to recognize them. As someone has said, “Just because you’re paranoid, it doesn’t mean that people really aren’t out to get you.” It is not always our fault that balance is often difficult to pursue in a balanced manner.
But the second reason I was late in learning to ride a bike is something that is more personal and harder to confess: I was afraid. I was sure that I was going to fail, that I was going to fall. Why start something when you know you’re going to fail?
Sure enough, I did fall—a lot. However, in the process of processing numerous falls, I discovered something: Falling and failing are not the same thing. And before long, I was riding a bike pretty well!
One further thought: Riding a bike is never a matter of perfect balance. Rather, it is a matter of a lot of mid-course corrections. You lean to the left, you lean to the right. You lean forward, you lean back. Balance is making a lot of small changes in what you’re doing.
And, of course, it is nigh on impossible to balance on a bicycle when I’m not in motion. If I become obsessed with balance, I’m like a kid sitting on a bike, but not going anywhere. If I am in motion in the direction I think God wants me to go, balance will still be a challenge. But it will be possible.
Rabbi Abraham said:
“I have learned a new form of service from the wars of Frederick, king of Prussia. It is not necessary to approach the enemy in order to attack him. In fleeing from him, it is possible to circumvent him as he advances, and fall on him from the rear until he is forced to surrender. What is needed is not to strike straight at Evil but to withdraw to the sources of divine power, and from there to circle around Evil, bend it, and transform it into its opposite.” (Martin Buber, Tales of the Hasidim, volume 1, page 115)
Andy Stanley made a similar point in a podcast he calls, “You Might Also Like.” He says that you can’t overcome the temptation of greed by saying, “I’m not going to be greedy! I’m not going to be greedy!” Rather, we overcome greed by . . . Well, frankly, you need to listen to his podcast on You Tube.
I have tried too often frontal assaults on the evil that assaults me. How many times has that actually worked? I don’t know precisely, but I’m pretty sure it’s somewhere between zero and nil.
Do you remember an old cartoon strip called “Cathy”? Cathy was a single young lady who was always going on diets. In every frame of the cartoon segments that chronicled her diets, she gained weight. I can identify.
So, perhaps it would be good if we tried Rabbi Abraham’s approach and Andy Stanley’s approach. Perhaps we should withdraw to God. Maybe life wasn’t meant to be lived by ourselves.
Even if you don’t believe in God—and who of us really does believe in God all that much—you can act as if there is a God. Take the empirical approach. The Scripture says, “Taste and see that the LORD is good” (Psalm 34:8a)
What have got to lose? I mean, besides the chronic losses you suffer when you attack your problems head-on? Withdraw to the source of your strength, of all strength. Your attack might go much better when you have done that.
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