Stay out of the shadows …

Today’s devotional begins with: “Sometimes a great mystery is made out of the life hid with Christ in God as though it is a strange mystical thing that ordinary people cannot understand.” It goes on to describes this abundant life as liberty vs. bondage, as servants vs. sons, yet some experiences this week show me that there is another element that makes it a mystery. Those who are Spirit-filled get it, but those who walk in the flesh are mystified.

This showed up when I shared about the tulips. The full story: we live in a small condo complex where the board wants all units to look the same. One of 15 has a door wreath. While I’d like to paint my door orange (big no-no) I went looking for a wreath. Those in the store were cheap silk flowers, ugly, but the store had nice stuff and I soon noticed I was covetous, and also realized that my motive for getting a wreath was not right either. So I walked out of the store empty-handed.

At home, I did a computer search and found only one door hanging that I liked. It was pink tulips cascading out of a basket, but it was $258 so I shut my computer off and confessed my vengeful attitude, and the covetousness, and then prayed, “Lord, if You want me to have pink tulips, then You will have to supply them. Forgive me for being so foolish.”

That was a Monday. Tuesday morning, our doorbell rang. It was a neighbor who said they had a gift for me. He handed me a vase filled with a dozen pink tulips, real ones. I was flabbergasted.

Later, when telling others this story, the Christians that seem filled with the Spirit chuckled with delight at a God who can hug and rebuke us at the same time. They understood my delight at this hug, and the surprise of what He did. However, there were a few who struggle with worry and other things. Instead of being delighted, they were puzzled as if wondering why the neighbor gave me flowers or why God would ‘reward’ my confession by answering my prayer. They didn’t get it.

This mystery of resting in Christ is available to those who are actively relying on the Lord, yet hidden to those who are filled with worry, doubt, and self-centered ideas. That mode of living cannot see truth because it is hidden by the world’s way of thinking, or by the I-wants of the old nature, or by the lies of the devil. While not totally in the dark, walking in the flesh produces many shadows.

The devotional writer ends with this: “I sometimes think Christians look on our Lord as someone appointed to keep them out of their possessions, rather than to bring them in to them. They little know how such an implication grieves and dishonors Christ. (Yet) when they do recognize it, the spirit of bondage becomes impossible to them.” That is, once we see it, we can see the contrast and forget what our darkness was like.

That is the wonder of trusting God. It is described in verses like these:

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:6–7)

You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. (Isaiah 26:3)

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. (John 14:27)

Pink tulips make no sense to someone who thinks God punishes their sin and will withhold His blessings if they are not behaving properly. Sometimes that happens because His children are not yet perfect in behavior, but when we confess He forgives and cleanses — and He never stops loving us and wanting us to know the wonder of His love.

PRAY: What can I say? You died on a cross to prove Your love for all humanity. That great sacrifice is enough, more than enough, but then You add the warm touch of no fear, perfect peace, and occasionally, pink tulips.

 

Hurts and Hugs

Peter thought that he loved Jesus. When Jesus told the disciples they would all fall away and be scattered because of the crucifixion that was about to happen, Peter answered him,

“Though they all fall away because of you, I will never fall away.” Jesus said to him, “Truly, I tell you, this very night, before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.” Peter said to him, “Even if I must die with you, I will not deny you!” And all the disciples said the same. (Matthew 26:33–35)

Peter heard what Jesus said, but until it happened, he didn’t believe he would deny Jesus. At that point in his life, he was an “I’ll believe it when I see it” disciple. Most of us know what that is like.

After Jesus died and rose from the dead, He appeared to the disciples and made them breakfast. Then Jesus asked Peter if he loved Him. Peter insisted that he did, but Jesus asked again, and then a third time.

 “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep. (John 21:17)

There is some theological controversy about this narrative and how it might apply to Christians today. Without going into that, Chambers writes about the way this question hurt Peter. It poked at his declaration of loyalty that had proved to be not as deep as he had previously declared.

Chambers says that Peter loved Jesus as any natural man would love a good man. This is a love that is genuine enough, but not deep, not controlling the very heart and life. Such an overwhelming true love does not have to say much because it shows in everything that person is and does. By denying Jesus, Peter’s love was shown to be lacking. However, the hurt he felt when his shallowness was exposed had a far greater impact.

Chambers also says that hearing the Word of God and feeling it cut to the heart produces pain beyond any pain that comes from sin. This is because sin blunts our feelings and makes us immune to the damage it does.

This gives me pause. I tend to think that sin can excite, or thrill, or confuse, or produce sorrow, or make me cry my heart out. It does not seem as if it is blunting my feelings but intensifies them. However, sin does dull and blunt my feelings toward God. Sin dulls the passion that I have for Jesus Christ.

Oddly, that dulled passion is restored by the pain of conviction. To be hurt by Jesus “is the most exquisite hurt conceivable,” a natural pain, but deeply personal. The Word of God “pierces even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit” and slashes out all self-deception. When Jesus speaks directly to me or asks, “Do you love Me?” I cannot answer lightly or say “nice” things about my dedication. I know who is speaking and exactly what He says and why He says it. The point He makes is sharp and unmistakable, revealing my sin and putting me before Him with a contrite heart. The pain of His probing penetrates all my pretense.

Yet there is something astonishing about the hurt of the Lord’s Word that is unlike any other painful rebuke; when He comes to me with it, I also feel more loved than at any other time. Like a surgeon’s knife, His goal is healing, not harm, and He is the only One who can deeply wound and lovingly hug at the same time.

Fear not and yet fear . . .

Last night my husband took me out for supper. On the way home he said we had one stop to make. We were nearly home but he turned right instead of left and took me to a long wooden stairway. We climbed the stairs to a hill that is higher than the rooftops of all the houses in the city — and we stood there and watched the sunset.

This happened because of two jars in our kitchen. One is filled with pieces of paper with single words on each. They are prompts for a surprise or an event or something to do that keeps us from getting in a rut. He explained that his word for this month was “sunset” and he’d been watching for the right time to do this. His choice could not have been better. The sunset was amazing with color on every point of the horizon in front of us and behind. It was magical, grand in scale yet intimate for us, even out in a public place and on the highest hill for miles. The combination of ah, aw, and awe as perfect.

In today’s devotional reading, the author quotes the scene in The Wind in the Willows where Rat and Mole experience an encounter with “the Holy.” The description is an allegory but it brings home the idea of having an intimate relationship with God and yet being in awe at the wonder of who He is.

In the story, Mole asked Rat if he was afraid, and Rat said, “Afraid! Of Him? Oh never, never! And yet — and yet — oh, Mole, I am afraid!” And the two of them crouched to the earth, bowed their heads, and worshiped.

My experience with a sunset and with sweet thoughtfulness is a small foretaste and example of how God created us so we can love Him and crawl up on His lap — yet at the same time be filled with an overwhelming sense of wonder, even fear, at His glory.

In the revelation of Jesus Christ, John had this experience . . . “When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he laid his right hand on me, saying, ‘Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades.’” (Revelation 1:17–18)

How can I describe this intimacy and fear? It is being in the horrible and almighty presence of the One who created the universe and who holds the power of life and death in His hands. Out of His mouth comes thunder and out of His eyes judgment. Yet as I tremble, He hugs me close to His heart and gives me that peace that passes understanding, a sense of quiet in the fear that is beyond comprehension.

Sometimes I can seek and find this, perhaps at church with a worshiping congregation, or in my prayer time, or alone in the trees and the sunlight. Sometimes it happens when trials are at a maximum and I feel as if I will drown or die under them. Sometimes it is so unexpected that there is nothing to explain it except that He decides to be here, right now, and in that revealing of Himself, I see both the grand of who He is, and the tenderness of His heart — both at the same time.

Like John, I fall at my feet and He puts His hand on me and says, “Fear not . . . .” and I am afraid and yet not the slightest bit afraid.