“A MAN NAMED ‘FORGIVEN!’”
“He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes, to him I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone, and a new name written on the stone which no one knows but he who receives it” (Revelation 2:17).
I’ve been battling depression of late. In a sense, this is old news. I’ve battled depression since I was nine years old. I didn’t even have a name for it in those days. Later, I would learn its name and nature only too well.
I’ve made horrible decisions over the years. And horrible decisions have had horrible consequences for me and for those I have harmed over the years.
So, depressed as I was, I went to church yesterday very reluctantly. Depression feeds on isolation, and isolation feeds on depression. Eventually, they consume one another. In the end, I realize that I am the feast that depression and isolation are having.
Normally, I find church very uplifting. I didn’t yesterday. This was not the fault of the pastor. The sermon was fine. It wasn’t the worship team’s fault. They led us in some very uplifting music, which, nevertheless, failed to life me up. It wasn’t the people’s fault. They were as kind as ever.
One of the problems with depression is that it feeds on everything. Depression is an omnivore. Good sermons, uplifting music, people’s kindness—depression can devour them all and be nourished by them.
The sermon was about forgiveness. The pastor said many true and helpful things. I knew that they were true when he said them. Now, I realize that they were also helpful.
One of the things he said was that, when Jesus said “It is finished,” on the cross, that meant “PAID IN FULL.” True!
At the end of his good sermon, he challenged us to write down our sins on a piece of paper that looked very much like a check. (I had to write small, and didn’t have nearly enough time. I finally just wrote “ETC., ETC. ETC.”)
Then, he asked us to come up to the front of the church, and stamp our “sin list” with a stamp that said “PAID IN FULL.” I stamped my “check” on both sides. Then, I took communion.
I still felt awful. I was on the brink (or over the brink) of tears during the entire service.
The pastor had challenged us not only to receive God’s forgiveness for ourselves, but also to forgive others. I thought to myself, “I don’t really have anyone to forgive.” Then, one name came to me—my own. I dissolved in a puddle of tears, still depressed.
I spoke with the pastor on the way out. He could see that I was in bad shape, and took me aside into a small lounge. He listened and prayed. I did not immediately feel better. However, his prayer was most assuredly heard.
As my wife and I pulled out of the parking lot, a song by Casting Crowns came on K-Love Radio. The song is titled, “One Step Away.” Here are the lyrics:
“What if you could go back and relive one day of your life all over again
And unmake the mistake that left you a million miles away
From the you, you once knew
Now yesterday’s shame keeps saying that you’ll never get back on track
But what if I told you
You’re one step away from surrender
One step away from coming home, coming home
One step from arms wide open
His love has never let you go
You’re not alone
You’re one step away
It doesn’t matter how far you’ve gone
Mercy says you don’t have to keep running down the road you’re on
Love’s never met a lost cause
Your shame, lay it down
Leave your ghosts in the past ‘cause you know that you can’t go back
But you can turn around
You’ve never been more than
One step away from surrender
One step away from coming home, coming home
One step from arms wide open
His love has never let you go
You’re not alone (not alone)
You’re one step away
You’re one step away
Lay down, lay down your old chains
Come now, and take up your new name
Your best life up ahead now
You’re one step away
Lay down, lay down your old chains
Come now, and take up your new name
Your best life up ahead now
You’re one step away
Lay down, lay down your old chains
Come now, and take up your new name
Your best life up ahead now
You’re one step away
So come on home, come on home
One step from arms wide open
His love has never let you go
You’re not alone (you’re not alone)
You’re one step away
Lay down, lay down your old chains
Take up, take up your new name
Lay down, lay down your old chains
Take up, take up your new name
Lay down, lay down your old chains
Come now, take up your new name
Your best life up ahead now
One step away
Lay down, lay down your old chains
Come now, and take up your new name
Your best life up ahead now
You’re just one step away”
(Written by John Mark Hall, Bernie Herms, Matthew West • Copyright © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group).
Oh my!
And then, I thought about the fact that we will be given a new name someday by Jesus (Revelation 2:17). Of course, Jesus gave names to people when he was here on earth two-thousand years ago. If Jesus is now in Heaven with the Father (who is everywhere at the same time; “omnipresence” is the official word for this), then why couldn’t Jesus give me a new name right now?
I have very rarely felt that I heard the voice of God. However, this time I am quite certain that I did hear that Voice, the Voice that answered my heart’s cry for a new name.
And the Voice said, “Your name is “FORGIVEN!”
Perhaps that’s your name, too.
“CONDITIONAL LOVE FOR GOD?”
“In what ways is my love of the Father God conditional?” (From the “3-Minute Retreat” for August 30, 2017.)
We all want to be loved unconditionally. This is a human desire, even a human need.
My wife does an overwhelmingly good job of this most of the time. Even she struggles with it at times. (This says more about me than it says about her. I am not the easiest person in the world to love. I know this: I’ve trying to do it for decades!)
Rumor has it that only God can and does love us unconditionally. (See Romans 5:6-11 for further details.)
But the “3-Minute Retreat” for today introduced a different question: Do I love God unconditionally?
A good question is a burning bush ablaze with the Glory of God. This question is such a bush.
“God, I will love you, IF you meet all my needs.
“God, I will love you, IF you give me everything I want.”
“God, I will love you, IF you will heal me.”
“God, I will love you, IF you will get me out of this mess.”
And so on it goes. I want God and other people to love me unconditionally, but I don’t want to extend the same courtesy to God and other people. And, of course, if I start putting conditions on loving people or God, I am not loving people or God as they are. I’m only loving my own idea of what people and God should be like. In other words, I’m loving (if you can even call it loving) an illusion.
So, how do I love God unconditionally? I don’t know, but I need to figure this out. It seems to me to be a pretty important question.
I don’t have any insights, but I do have some suspicions.
Suspicion # 1: I can begin by realizing how conditional my love for God and other people really it. An awareness of reality is no place to end, but it is a wonderful place to begin.
Suspicion # 2: If I marinate in the unconditional love of God regularly, I might pick up some of that unconditional flavor. “We love God, because he first loved us,” says John (1 John 4:19).
Suspicion # 3: If I practice attempting to give to others and to receive from others unconditional love, I will be in a better position to both receive unconditional love from God, and love God unconditionally in return. Right after 1 John 4:19, John talks about the need for us to love our brothers and sisters. It would appear that being loved by God, loving God, and loving other people are all of one piece.
Suspicion # 4: Unconditional love can be learned. Unconditional love is a muscle that can be conditioned. Unconditional love may originate in Heaven, but it won’t drop on me out of the skies.
“THE HUMAN WHISPERER”
“If you want to capture someone’s attention, whisper.” (A 1980’s commercial for Nuance Perfume.)
“‘Go out and stand before me on the mountain,’ the LORD told him. And as Elijah stood there, the LORD passed by, and a mighty windstorm hit the mountain. It was such a terrible blast that the rocks were torn loose, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake.
And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper.” (1 Kings 19:11-12, New Living Translation.)
Elijah, a prophet of God, had just had some major victories in terms of his call to the people of Israel to return to the LORD their God. However, when Queen Jezebel threatened his life, he ran for his life and wished he was dead. Ever been there? Probably most of us have been at one time or another. Some of us have our mailing address in that place.
Elijah ended up at Mt. Horeb, which was probably another name for Mt. Sinai. God gave the depressed prophet a tremendous display of God’s power. However, God was not in those things, as the Scripture itself points out.
Then, God did about the least seemingly God-like thing that could be imagined: God whispered.
Today, my 3-minute retreat dealt with this very matter. (You can access the full retreat at www.loyolapress.com/retreats/listening-to-whispers-start-retreat, accessed 08-09-2017.) Near the end of the retreat, the author asked several penetrating questions.
“Am I comfortable with silence? What sounds in my life might prevent me from hearing God’s whisper? What noise in my mind might also interfere?”
Obviously, we live in a noisy world. But in my own case, it is frequently the noise in my own mind that is most distracting. I sometimes feel that I am a living, breathing, walking civil war.
Years ago when I was a pastor, I was called by a lady who was a neighbor. She lived about two blocks from our house, and occasionally attended our church. The lady was crying and screaming. Her fifteen-year-old daughter was holding a knife and threatening to kill her mom. I said, “I’ll be right down!” I told my wife to pray, and hustled out the door.
Sure enough, when I got to the house, there was Nancy (not her real name) brandishing the longest, most wicked looking butcher knife I’ve ever seen at her mom. Nothing in my pastoral training had prepared me for this. (Every seminary should have a required class that deals with these kinds of situations. Possible titles: “Hostage Negotiation 101,” or “Seminar on the Use and Abuse of Kitchen Utensils.”)
Both of the ladies were crying and yelling and using theological terms in a very non-theological manner. I wondered why I had decided to handle this, instead of being smart and calling the police. I quietly wondered if I would make it back to see my wife and three small children. It’s amazing how many things can quickly pass through your mind in such situations.
I quietly asked, “Could we all just sit down?” The ladies were not ready to sit down just yet, so I decided to demonstrate how to do so. Nancy and her mom finally sat down. Nancy was still gripping the knife firmly, and they were still crying, yelling, and cussing. But, at least, they were sitting down now.
I whispered something to the Mom. It was too quiet for either Nancy or her Mom to hear, so they had to ask me to repeat it. I spoke even more softly. They became silent, and asked me again what I had said.
I whispered even more quietly, “Why don’t we all just whisper?” To say that they were surprised by my suggestion would be a gross understatement. I was surprised too. I’m not normally that wise.
They didn’t immediately begin to whisper, but they did yell a little more quietly. Every time they yelled, I would whisper that we were trying an experiment with whispering. They began to cry and yell less, and to speak more gently. Eventually, they even began to listen to one another.
Finally, Nancy put down the knife on the coffee table. She and her mom embraced and cried. This time, the tears were tears of gentleness and contrition, rather than tears of homicidal rage.
I shook all the way home.
I imagine that you’ve hear of the “horse whisperer,” or the “dog whisperer.” Our God is the human whisperer. He often speaks to us very quietly. Perhaps we all need to sit down, speak softly ourselves, put down our knives, and listen. Perhaps we could then hear the Human Whisperer speak. And what he would say might be forgiving, encouraging, and unbelievably loving.
“ONE DAY AT A TIME: DANCING IN THE RAIN”
“Anyone can fight the battles of just one day. It is only when you and I add the burden of those two awful eternities, yesterday and tomorrow that we break down. It is not the experience of today that drives us mad. It is the remorse or bitterness for something, which happened yesterday, or the dread of what tomorrow may bring. Let us therefore do our best to live but one day at a time. Am I living one day at a time?” (Twenty-Four Hours a Day.)
“Dust of Snow”
BY ROBERT FROST
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
One day is at a time is more than a slogan. It is also more than a sitcom from the 1970’s and 1980’s. One day at a time is all any of its gets to live or has to live. The richest person in the world and the poorest person in the world each gets only one day at a time. Time is one of the most egalitarian aspects of human existence.
Of course, not everyone gets the same circumstances or relationships to live his or her day. So, perhaps the days are not so egalitarian after all.
On the other hand, I’ve noticed that people who have money, power, influence, pleasure, apparently good relationships, and good health aren’t always so happy in their days. Some are plumb miserable. And I knew a lady who sang hymns of praise to God the day she died at the end of her third round with ovarian cancer. It would appear that we are back to time being about as good as we perceive it to be (or, perhaps, make it to be).
But, whether time makes us miserable or happy . . . No! That’s not the most helpful way of looking at the matter. Time can’t make us either happy or miserable. We are the ones in charge of whether time makes us happy or miserable. We can’t create time itself, but we can often color it with either joy or sadness.
Not always. Sometimes terrible things happen, and we simply cannot be joyful. Sometimes we have to just stand there, like a cow in a cold rain.
But often, we can use our days to be happy, and to make others happy.
When the kids were little, we were about to go to the local outdoor swimming pool. However, it began to rain. There was distant thunder, and the pool was wisely shut down when there was lightning.
The kids—my youngest daughter in particular—were very disappointed. However, I did a very wise thing: I said, “Look, you’ve got your swim things on. Why not go out and dance around in the rain?”
And they did! I don’t remember if I myself went out and danced in the rain. Probably not. But I should have.
“HEROIC TRASH COLLECTOR”
My trash collector and I had an interesting exchange the other morning. I was out walking, and he said, “Hello, Doctor!”
I replied, “You make me laugh when you call me ‘Doctor’!”
He countered, “Well, I think that getting your Ph.D. is an amazing accomplishment.”
“I’m more relieved than amazed, I guess,” I replied.
And then, he took off his glove, and said, “I’d like to shake your hand, if that would be alright.”
“I would be honored,” I replied.
“I work hard, but you have brains,” he said.
My trash collector has been doing his job for twenty-four years. He told me in a conversation a few years ago that he had encountered people who has cursed at him for slowing them down in their cars, drunks who had threatened to fight, and bees and wild animals who stung and bit him. He is now having knee problems, and has to take cortisone shots every few weeks in order to help him to do his job without quite as much pain.
A few years ago, I forgot to put my trash out one week, and then we went on vacation. After we came back, I was taking a walk on trash day. He stopped me and asked, with obvious anxiety, “Are you all alright? I didn’t pick up your trash for a couple of weeks, and was worried about you!”
Years ago, I said to a medical student with whom I was acquainted, “I’m not too fond of doctors, but I suppose that we owe a lot to you, including the fact that we are all living longer.” His response surprised me.
“Well, actually,” he said, “you likely owe that to the garbage collectors.” He went on to explain that the sanitation folks had done a great deal to cut down on infections and even plagues.
Humm!
So, back to my recent conversation with my trash collector.
“I think,” I said to him, “that people like you, who do necessary jobs faithfully, are the real heroes.” And then I added, “I’d like to shake your hand, if that would be alright.”
“I would be honored,” he said.
“WATER OUTAGE AND GRATITUDE”
A couple of weeks ago, we experienced a water main break near our house. The water was off for several hours. I decided to go up to where the men were working. No, I wasn’t going up to ask how long the water be off. I went up to thank them for coming out on a Saturday morning to work on the broken pipe and to thank them for keeping the aging pipes working most of the time. They seemed very touched by my gratitude.
I suspect that the utility workers had been the victims of a trap that I frequently fall into. Too often, I take things for granted when they work, and complain loudly when they don’t. I don’t like that about myself, but there it is. I think I’m doing better than I used to concerning this, but I am still very much a work in progress.
I grew up without running water. Sometimes we ran for the water, but more often we moseyed. So, I really appreciate having running water most of the time.
Both of our presidential candidates talked about infrastructure, and it is an important topic. Our fathers, grandfathers, and great grandfathers laid the pipes that we use today. We should be grateful to them and for them. And we should be grateful for the men and women who now try to keep the pipes more or less serviceable. And, maybe—just maybe—we should be willing to shell out some money for some major infrastructure projects ourselves.
Perhaps, however, there is another kind of infrastructure that needs some maintenance: the utility known as “gratitude.” Perhaps gratitude is a primary means of God conveying God’s blessings to us. It isn’t so much that God only blesses those who are grateful. The truth is that God is good to everyone and everything God has made. “The LORD is good to everyone. He showers compassion on all his creation” (Psalm 145:9, New Living Translation).
Rather, it is the case that only those who are grateful realize that God has blessed them. An ungrateful attitude very quickly becomes a practical form of atheism. In discussing the sinfulness of humankind, Paul wrote, “Yes, they knew God, but they wouldn’t worship him as God or even give him thanks. And they began to think up foolish ideas of what God was like. As a result, their minds became dark and confused” (Romans 1:21, New Living Translation).
When I fail to be grateful, I sabotage the pipe through which God’s goodness pours. Of course, once I’ve done that, I am free to complain as much as I would like. However, God is not the problem.
How is your gratitude infrastructure?
“LOVE IS NOT A ZERO-SUM GAME”
“One of the teachers of religious law was standing there listening to the debate. He realized that Jesus had answered well, so he asked, “Of all the commandments, which is the most important?”
Jesus replied, “The most important commandment is this: ‘Listen, O Israel! The Lord our God is the one and only Lord.
And you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and all your strength.’
The second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ No other commandment is greater than these.”
The teacher of religious law replied, “Well said, Teacher. You have spoken the truth by saying that there is only one God and no other.
And I know it is important to love him with all my heart and all my understanding and all my strength, and to love my neighbor as myself. This is more important than to offer all of the burnt offerings and sacrifices required in the law.”
Realizing how much the man understood, Jesus said to him, “You are not far from the Kingdom of God.” And after that, no one dared to ask him any more questions.” (Mark 12:28-34.)
Much of life seems to be a zero-sum game: winners and losers, the more of this the less of that. That probably works for many things—at least in the short-run. We’ve set things up that way.
However, in many of the most important aspects of life, zero-sum is not the name of the game. When two people who have been friends for a long time are having a good conversation, who wins and who loses? The same question elicits the same answer when a husband and wife are enjoying a walk along the beach at sunset. Who wins when your little son or daughter or grandchild draws you a picture or says that he or she loves you? You get the point.
And yet, I fall into zero-sum thinking all the time. For example, I was thinking this morning about loving God versus loving people. Did you notice the word “versus” in the preceding sentence? The word “versus” is a zero-sum word.
Jesus pointed out that loving God and loving people is at the center of the Old Testament. And I have almost completely misunderstood what he was saying. I am ashamed to admit it, but I will anyway. The unspoken, unbelieving question that I have been asking in my heart of hearts is this: “How can I love God with everything I’ve gotten, and still love other people?”
In particular, I love my wife so much that I am sometimes afraid that I love her more than I love God. If love is a zero-sum game, then this would be a distinct possibility, and my wife would be an idol.
However, if love is not a zero-sum game, then loving God with everything I am and have and loving my wife as myself becomes exceedingly unproblematic.
As often happens with me, my wrong assumptions lead to false problems.
One other thing: If love is not a zero-sum game, then God can (and does!) love everyone equally. And suddenly, John 3:16 makes sense: “For God so loved the world . . . .”
“FACE TO FACE WITH THE SINNER”
“Then he returned to the disciples and said to them, ‘Are you still sleeping and resting? Look, the hour is near, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners.’” (Matthew 26:45, New International Version.)
Sometimes, my reading and study of God’s Word is very regular and orderly. At other times, my reading (and study?) is like me—chaotic. Although I don’t advise chaos, sometimes chaos has surprisingly salutary results.
Take this morning, for example. I decided to be decidedly chaotic. I opened the Bible at random, and read the words written in Matthew 26:45, the words which batted lead-off in this post.
I had always identified with the sleeping disciples. The suddenness of the verse jolted me out of my usual way of reading and interpreting it. Suddenly, I realized that maybe—just maybe—I should identify myself with the sinners who were coming to arrest Jesus.
Oh my!
It wasn’t the Jewish authorities or the Gentile soldiers who were coming to arrest and execute Jesus. It was I!
If Jesus died for the sins of all sinners, as Jesus and the entire New Testament say that he did, and if we are all sinners (and I don’t really need any book to tell me that I am a sinner), then I was one of the ones directly responsible for his death.
Christians are often accused of reading the Bible and believing what we believe because we find it “comforting.” The Bible and the Christian faith may or may not be true, but one thing that they are not is comforting.
Years ago, a short movie called “The Crossing” came out. In it, a young man who is not a Christian has a dream. In his dream, he encounters a friend of his who has just died of leukemia. His friend tries to help the living boy realize that he is a sinner and that Christ died for sinners.
At one point, the dreamer suddenly finds himself tumbling down an embankment, and finding himself in the midst of a crucifixion. A Roman soldier is about to drive a spike through a man’s wrist. (The man turns out to be Jesus of Nazareth.) The boy grabs the arm of the Roman soldier to keep him from doing any more harm. When the soldier turns around, the dreamer is looking into his own face.
Today—and perhaps at all times—we are preoccupied with us-and-them categories. For me, as a believer in Jesus Christ, there is no such thing as “them,” only us. And if I wish to come face to face with the sinner, I need only look in the mirror.
“God at Work in Me”
My personal determination is never enough to transform me. Thankfully, my life is not primarily about my personal determination.
Here is my journal entry for this morning.
Thursday, July 13, 2017
I am determined today to live for God, because God died for me. (He also rose from the dead, but I’m afraid that news has not yet been leaked to the press.) Having a determined heart and mind and body is important early in the morning. However, will I have a determined mind later in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening, during the night while I’m asleep?
To live out determination faithfully has always been my struggle. Perhaps it is everyone’s struggle since the fall of humankind, but that’s cold comfort. Fickle determination is simply being fickle.
So, what can I do? I can pray!
God, my determination doesn’t amount to much. Please grant me your determination.
After the preceding confession and prayer, I was reminded of a verse that a student and I had looked at two nights ago, when I subbed for another instructor: Philippians 2:13. I turned to my Bible software. The verse was still up on the current tab of that software.
“So then, my beloved, just as you have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure.” (Philippians 2:12-13, New American Standard Bible, 1995.)
If I am to do God’s will, I must first know that God is working in me to will and to do God’s will. I keep willfully (!!) forgetting that. I need to remember.
In the Greek text of Philippians 2:13, the verb that speaks of God “working” is in the present tense. The present tense in biblical Greek usually suggests some sort of continual, ongoing action.
God is continually working in me. God is continually working in me to desire to do God’s will, and to actually do it. What a wonderful truth! If I act as if I believe that (and it is an act for me most of the time), I would become much more relaxed. I would, at the same time, become much more energized.
My life is not primarily about me doing things for God. Rather, my life is primarily about God doing things in and through me.
Recent Comments