Something I've heard a few Christians my age and younger say recently is that God won't give us more than we can handle. Whether in regard to some kind of trial or a particular temptation, they use this as a source of comfort and confidence. It's the idea that, whatever may come, it will never be too much. I can handle whatever God's will allows, and it will never leave me destitute because God is good, and He wouldn't do that to His children. Right?
Wrong.
God is good. And it is for that reason that He often gives us way more than we can handle. He overwhelms us with life's circumstances. He allows us to be left destitute. He drives me to the end of my rope, to the end of my strength and my resources and my wisdom, where there's nothing left to hold onto but Him.
Just look at the people in Scripture. Look at Job for goodness' sake! When he found out, within minutes, that all of his wealth and, far more tragically, all his children had been wiped out, he certainly did not say, "Well, God doesn't give me more than I can handle, so I know I'll be okay." Heck no!
Instead, Scripture tells us that "Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to the ground in worship and said:
'Naked I came from my mother's womb,
and naked I will depart.
The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away;
may the name of the LORD be praised.'
In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing." (Job 1:20-22)
Job was so broken that all he could do was grieve and fall down in worship of his sovereign God. There was nothing about what he did that was "handling" what God allowed to happen in his life. At the end of himself, all that was left was grief and worship. And that was a holy response to his circumstances.
You see the same thing in the lives of David and Paul when they face hardship and struggle. In 2 Corinthians 12, Paul tells his readers that he actually begged God to take away the "thorn in his flesh," whether that was some kind of physical suffering or spiritual struggle. Paul asked God to take it away because it was more than Paul could handle! And we're talking about Paul here, who wrote a lot of the New Testament. But how does God answer him? "Oh, don't worry about it Paul. I don't give you more than you can handle, so buck up! You got this!" No. God says, "My strength is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." And thus, Paul learns to live in Christ's power and not his own. At the end of himself, there is God.
You see, there is no trial that we experience or struggle that we wrestle through that we can deal with in our own strength. There is very little that we can actually "handle" on our own, if anything. It's pride that says, "I can handle this," which is why many believers become disillusioned when they are in the middle of a struggle or trial and come to the utter end of themselves. As if they were supposed to be able to handle the difficulty on their own.
We are weak. I am weak. In my own struggles I have found over and over again that there is nothing for me to do but hold onto who God is. There's nothing I can do but let go of my self and fall on my face and worship. When people say that they know God won't give them more than they can handle, I think, "Just wait!" If Scripture hasn't shown them already, life will teach them otherwise soon enough.
So where in the world did we get the idea that God won't give us more than we can handle?
I think perhaps we pick up the idea from 1 Corinthians 10:13, which says that God He will not let us be tempted beyond what we can bear. The thing is, there's a huge difference between handling trials and temptations and bearing trials and temptations. "To handle" means to manage, deal with, be responsible for, or control. When I look at my life, I know that I lack the strength and will to deal with or manage trials and temptations on my own. And don't we believers know by now that control is always out of our hands?
On the other hand, "to bear" means to remain firm under, like when you're carrying a heavy load. It is not our job to manage or control the difficult things in our lives. But God does give us the strength and grace to endure them, to stand firm in the midst of them because we can hide in Him. Do you see the difference?
Now, I don't mean to depress you with the fact that God gives us more than we can handle. It's true, and it would be depressing if not for another truth: God is also more than we can handle.
Your Creator and mine, the Heavenly King and Mighty Judge, the Redeemer and Conquering Savior, the Holy and Only God, the Alpha and Omega, the Great I AM - we can never comprehend all that He is. He is greater, more holy, more just, more magnificent and beautiful and loving and kind than we can ever, ever imagine. We can never praise Him too much, and we can never understand the fullness of who He is.
And that gives us hope and joy in the midst of life's overwhelming circumstances. We can't handle life and all of its struggles. But when we come to the end of ourselves, we find that He is more than enough, and He is more than we can imagine.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
The Year of the Marathon: One Day at a Time
I decided a little over a month ago that this year I'm going to run a marathon.
A whole marathon. A whole 26.2 miles. All at once. Running.
This isn't something I ever, ever thought I would do or even want to do. It happened in January when I was on the phone with my friend Amanda. In the process of talking about resolutions for this year, she told me that she's running a marathon in November. She told me about a training schedule that she found that starts you out (at the beginning of March) at just three miles and adds miles on slowly, and as she was talking, I had this crazy idea: "Well... I could do that. ... I could do that!"
I mulled it over for a month, and at the beginning of February I decided that I would do it. I, Emily, would run a marathon.
So I had to start training just so that I could run three miles by the time March started. Throughout February, I consistently did two-mile runs, and on March 4, last week, I had my first three-mile run. I honestly didn't think it would go well. But it did. I ran three miles Monday, then three on Wednesday, three on Friday and four on Saturday. What? Me? I'm actually doing this?
I went to visit Amanda this past weekend, so Friday and Saturday we went running together. She'll tell you what a miracle that is, because in college I refused to go running with anyone. But, much to my delighted surprise, running with someone is easier than running alone. She helped me keep a steady pace, she let me know how far we had gone, and she would occasionally turn to me and start singing whatever was playing on her iPod. Together, we finished our first week of marathon training.
Only 36 weeks to go.
You may think I'm crazy (my roommates certainly do). The fact is that I try not to think about 37 weeks. I can't even think about how much running I need to do this week, let alone this month or this year. I get overwhelmed when I think about 26.2 miles, so I try not to think about it too much. But what I can think about is today. I can only think about it one day at a time.
Just like I can only take life one day at a time. In my growth and relationship with God, there are certain things I want to do, certain victories and consistent disciplines I want to have, certain struggles I want to overcome, a certain intimacy with God and joy in Him that I deeply desire. But I can't try to attain the fullness of those things all at once. I can only pursue God one day at a time. I can only rest in Christ's strength and choose righteousness one day at a time. I can only put off the old self and put on the new self one day at a time. Because I am weak, and God's mercies are new each day. Because I am hungry and empty, and God gives me daily Bread.
Because God's Word is a lamp to my feet, not to the mile marker 26.2 miles down the road.
Not surprisingly, relationship and pursuit of God is easier when I don't try to do it alone. When I have the encouragement and support (and humor and tears) of people who are running this race with me, I'm inspired and energized - I can keep running, even when it gets painfully difficult.
This year, I'm running a marathon and seeking to love God and know His love more fully. But, each day, I'm starting with today.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Savoring the Sunrise
My office has a great view.
Beautiful, right? And these tiny pictures don't even begin to do justice to how those moments took my breath away.
Yet, I'm finding that the more I try to share these moments, the less they take my breath away. Not because they are any less special and glorious. It's because my heart has changed.
I live in a self-obsessed culture that values "sharing everything." From hanging out with friends to daily outfits, from what you had for lunch to sunrises or sunsets, from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep, it's expected that you share whatever it is with the rest of the world. And you're expected to have Instagram so you can snap a quick picture, make it fancy with some cool filter, then legitimize it with a witty caption before sharing it with the citizens of the Internet world. The intention is to record and share the moments of your life in a fun way so that you enjoy each moment to the fullest. But I've found that it has quite the opposite effect.
When we share pictures or thoughts with the Internet world, we want them to be appreciated; we want them to be "liked." In fact, we can start to put our hope and security in getting as many "likes" as we can, whether it's on an Instagram picture or a Facebook status. So much so that we feel good or bad about ourselves based on how many "likes" we get. So much so that we aren't even truly enjoying the moments that we're capturing on camera or in writing. Perhaps that isn't you, but I've seen it in some of my friends, and I've seen it in myself.
Which brings me back to taking pictures of the sunrise from an office window. There is nothing wrong with taking pictures of the sunrise. Nothing at all. But I get so caught up in taking pictures of the view (and hoping that people will like it) that I forget to enjoy it. I forget to bask in the glory of God that shines in the beauty of each day's sunrise. I get so caught up in sharing the moment that I forget to savor it. And aren't moments meant to savored before they are meant to be shared?
Every sunrise - and every beautiful or funny or delightful or entirely ordinary moment - is saturated with the kindness and love of the God who created and redeemed us. If we actually, truly delight in each moment as a gift of love from Him, we wouldn't worry about how many "likes" we get. Our security is no longer in how other people respond to our lives and the way we capture each moment. Our security is in Him, just as our heart's delight is in Him.
Now, I will still take pictures of the sunrise. But I hope that every morning I first take a long moment to savor its beauty, and I hope that some mornings I don't take pictures of it at all. Because each sunrise tells me that God loves me, and He likes me, and that is enough.
In case you don't know, I work at a private law firm in downtown Knoxville. Our office suite sits over halfway up the tallest building in the city, and our back office windows look east over the river. I'm the receptionist, which means I'm at work every morning by 8:00, and every morning I take a moment to stand in a back office and look out the windows to view the morning. In the winter especially, when the sunrise isn't so early, I get to see beautiful skies nearly every single day. My favorite are the rosy-golden mornings where the sky flames bright with the glory of the new day. With the glory of God. The Tennessee River winds slowly into the hills and then the distant, dusty, blue-ridge mountains. The brilliant sun peeks over them, then climbs above the horizon, sometimes hiding behind patches of lit-up clouds, and I can't bear not to look, even though it burns my eyes. I soak in the glory of the sun, the Son. It's the deep breath before I plunge into the busyness and distraction of the day. The calm before the storm. The remembrance of glory before the return to the seemingly mundane.
Doesn't it make sense that I would want to share such beauty and joy with the rest of the world? After all, what is Instagram for if not moments like these? My friends should be allowed to experience this. So, sometimes I share these moments.
Beautiful, right? And these tiny pictures don't even begin to do justice to how those moments took my breath away.
Yet, I'm finding that the more I try to share these moments, the less they take my breath away. Not because they are any less special and glorious. It's because my heart has changed.
I live in a self-obsessed culture that values "sharing everything." From hanging out with friends to daily outfits, from what you had for lunch to sunrises or sunsets, from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep, it's expected that you share whatever it is with the rest of the world. And you're expected to have Instagram so you can snap a quick picture, make it fancy with some cool filter, then legitimize it with a witty caption before sharing it with the citizens of the Internet world. The intention is to record and share the moments of your life in a fun way so that you enjoy each moment to the fullest. But I've found that it has quite the opposite effect.
When we share pictures or thoughts with the Internet world, we want them to be appreciated; we want them to be "liked." In fact, we can start to put our hope and security in getting as many "likes" as we can, whether it's on an Instagram picture or a Facebook status. So much so that we feel good or bad about ourselves based on how many "likes" we get. So much so that we aren't even truly enjoying the moments that we're capturing on camera or in writing. Perhaps that isn't you, but I've seen it in some of my friends, and I've seen it in myself.
Which brings me back to taking pictures of the sunrise from an office window. There is nothing wrong with taking pictures of the sunrise. Nothing at all. But I get so caught up in taking pictures of the view (and hoping that people will like it) that I forget to enjoy it. I forget to bask in the glory of God that shines in the beauty of each day's sunrise. I get so caught up in sharing the moment that I forget to savor it. And aren't moments meant to savored before they are meant to be shared?
Every sunrise - and every beautiful or funny or delightful or entirely ordinary moment - is saturated with the kindness and love of the God who created and redeemed us. If we actually, truly delight in each moment as a gift of love from Him, we wouldn't worry about how many "likes" we get. Our security is no longer in how other people respond to our lives and the way we capture each moment. Our security is in Him, just as our heart's delight is in Him.
Now, I will still take pictures of the sunrise. But I hope that every morning I first take a long moment to savor its beauty, and I hope that some mornings I don't take pictures of it at all. Because each sunrise tells me that God loves me, and He likes me, and that is enough.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
No Year's Resolve
It's January 8th, a week of the new year has already gone by, and people are likely still thinking about resolutions. He wants to floss every day, they want to read a certain number of books every month, she wants to cook an actual meal once a week, I want to run more consistently. When people look back on the last year, they see things that they wish they could have done differently, things they want to improve on for the next year, so they resolve to do so. After all, it's a new year - it's time to start over fresh.
I don't remember how young I was when I started making New Year's resolutions, but it didn't take me long to discover how hard it is to actually maintain a commitment to them. It usually only took me until January 8th or so to not do whatever I had "resolved" to do. I didn't floss that one night, or I skipped the morning run, or I ate three-too-many cookies after lunch, or I neglected my devotional time. Whatever it was, my resolve disappeared, and I felt guilty about it.
Now, maybe this is just me, but it seems that after that first time that I failed, things would fall apart after that. I would try to pick things back up, but after my second and third failures, I would just forget my resolutions entirely. Maybe I would last a month, but after that, nothing. That's why I don't like making resolutions for the new year. There's no way I'll last an entire 365 days. Gracious, I barely last a week with the kind of resolve I have.
However, taking stock of the last year and hoping for change in certain areas is a good thing. We fallen human beings need change and growth. I want to change and grow. I want to go running more consistently and eat healthier, but more than that I want to spend time with my Creator. I want to know Him and love Him with all of who I am. I want to stop giving Him empty lip service and start living for Him whole-heartedly, even in my most private moments when no one is there to make sure I do the right thing. I know that God is always near to me, but I want to walk near to Him. I want to be mind-full of Christ each day.
But, reader, it would be foolish of me to "resolve" to do those things. I am weak and broken, and, to be completely honest, I've already failed this year.
So do I simply give up? If I know I'm weak and bound to fail, what hope is there for change?
Gratefully, it's not up to me to change my heart. God doesn't leave me on my own to try to live righteously. He knows my weaknesses more fully than I do, and He invites me to lean on His grace and strength. I can pray that He would help me to walk with Him. In this there is abundant hope.
But what if I still fail? What if you still fail? The fact is that it's not really a question of "if" - it's a question of "when." We are bound to fail. Yet, that is no cause for despair. Because just as 2013 is a new year, every single day is a new day, and God's mercies are new every morning (Check out Lamentations 3:22-24). We do make mistakes. Lots of them. But God's grace goes far deeper than our sin, and His strength overwhelms our weaknesses. So whether or not you make resolutions, in this new year, as each new day comes, you can live in joy and confidence knowing that our Redeemer is with us, He is for us, and He is making all things new.
I don't remember how young I was when I started making New Year's resolutions, but it didn't take me long to discover how hard it is to actually maintain a commitment to them. It usually only took me until January 8th or so to not do whatever I had "resolved" to do. I didn't floss that one night, or I skipped the morning run, or I ate three-too-many cookies after lunch, or I neglected my devotional time. Whatever it was, my resolve disappeared, and I felt guilty about it.
Now, maybe this is just me, but it seems that after that first time that I failed, things would fall apart after that. I would try to pick things back up, but after my second and third failures, I would just forget my resolutions entirely. Maybe I would last a month, but after that, nothing. That's why I don't like making resolutions for the new year. There's no way I'll last an entire 365 days. Gracious, I barely last a week with the kind of resolve I have.
However, taking stock of the last year and hoping for change in certain areas is a good thing. We fallen human beings need change and growth. I want to change and grow. I want to go running more consistently and eat healthier, but more than that I want to spend time with my Creator. I want to know Him and love Him with all of who I am. I want to stop giving Him empty lip service and start living for Him whole-heartedly, even in my most private moments when no one is there to make sure I do the right thing. I know that God is always near to me, but I want to walk near to Him. I want to be mind-full of Christ each day.
But, reader, it would be foolish of me to "resolve" to do those things. I am weak and broken, and, to be completely honest, I've already failed this year.
So do I simply give up? If I know I'm weak and bound to fail, what hope is there for change?
Gratefully, it's not up to me to change my heart. God doesn't leave me on my own to try to live righteously. He knows my weaknesses more fully than I do, and He invites me to lean on His grace and strength. I can pray that He would help me to walk with Him. In this there is abundant hope.
But what if I still fail? What if you still fail? The fact is that it's not really a question of "if" - it's a question of "when." We are bound to fail. Yet, that is no cause for despair. Because just as 2013 is a new year, every single day is a new day, and God's mercies are new every morning (Check out Lamentations 3:22-24). We do make mistakes. Lots of them. But God's grace goes far deeper than our sin, and His strength overwhelms our weaknesses. So whether or not you make resolutions, in this new year, as each new day comes, you can live in joy and confidence knowing that our Redeemer is with us, He is for us, and He is making all things new.
Monday, December 24, 2012
Light in the Darkness
It's been a while. I've been wanting to write another blogpost for about three weeks, but several thoughts and issues have been wrestling around in my mind, and I've had trouble finding the words to put them at peace. Just imagine five fat, bare-chested sumo wrestlers all fighting each other at once, and me in the middle, trying to put them in their corners. Yikes. It ain't pretty.
But, joking aside, sometimes words are inadequate. When I see a breathtakingly beautiful sunrise or sunset, I can't find words to describe that kind of beauty. When I hear music composed so that it plays on my heartstrings, I'm speechless.
When it comes to tragedy like the shooting of children and adults at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut, on December 14 - when it comes to the utter grief of the families who lost loved ones - there really are no words. Nothing I can say will make it better or easier. Nothing I can say will come close to expressing the heartache of those families and that community. There are some depths of the human heart that words cannot touch.
Thus, I have been slow to write anything recently. How could I?
Another reason I have hesitated to write about this tragedy is because of the journalistic rule of timeliness. You're supposed to write about it as soon as it happens so that people still care. So that you're not writing about old news. Well, for one thing, this is not a news blog, nor am I a journalist. Further than that, however, we should never think of such a thing as the Sandy Hook shooting as "old news." Our hearts should heal, yes, but they should not become hardened. Certainly, for those families and that community, I imagine the grief is still as sharp and overwhelming as it was the day after the shooting. Perhaps it is now that the shock of it has begun to wear off, and they feel the pain more sharply than ever. We cannot forget about them just because ten days have passed - it's not old news to them, and they need our prayers and support.
Now, some people would criticize me for this, but I don't like getting involved in political debate or discussion. I'm not good at debating, and I usually don't know enough about the issues to have any meaningful contribution. And, like I said, all the talking and the political arguments cannot heal the hearts of those Connecticut families.
However, watching the world react to the Sandy Hook tragedy compels me to speak. But I don't really have anything "political" to say. Many people see the tragedy and don't know what to do, so they rail against the NRA and call for more stringent gun laws. The problem with their reactions is that the problem we face - the reason for tragedy and heartache - isn't a political issue at all. It isn't about laws and institutions. The problem is our own hearts. The problem is the fact that every single person's heart is full of wickedness, and we are in desperate need of a Redeemer.
The world sees the darkness and doesn't know what to do with it. Without God, the world tries to make sense of things by blaming the maker of the tool used to commit the murder and by creating more laws. But those things are ultimately empty. If a man's heart is set upon committing such a heinous crime, no amount of gun restrictions will stop him.
Without God, there is no hope.
And that's just the point of Christmas, isn't it?
Because Christmas has become such a cheerful holiday, we forget the darkness and horrible silence to which Jesus came when He was born. The nation of Israel had suffered four hundred years of silence from God. At the end of Malachi in the Old Testament - after their nation's history had been full of God communicating with them - God became completely silent. He had promised a deliverer, and that's all they could hold onto, because He didn't say anything to them for four hundred years. Four hundred years. Just take a minute to wrap your mind around that. ... How many generations must have passed that heard about God but nothing from God Himself?
Furthermore, by the time the book of Matthew opens up the New Testament, Israel has no king and is under the dominion of Rome. I imagine that most people felt hopeless when they thought of all God's promises. And God Himself steps into that darkness.
I try not to rail against the commercialism that our culture has brought to the Christmas season. I actually enjoy the decorations and feasts and music and parties and gift-giving. In an article on Relevant Magazine online called "In Defense of the Christmas Rush," Ellen Painter Dollar says, "The rush of days, the piles of presents, the trees and the food and the ornaments... and all the rest - these are not distractions but testimonies to the thing."
We can feel free to get excited about decorating and giving gifts because we have something to celebrate. But it's important to remember why God-come-to-earth is something worth celebrating. It's worth celebrating because of tragedies like the Sandy Hook shooting and the darkness from which we cannot rescue ourselves. It's worth celebrating because man's heart is full of hatred and rage and lust and greed and pride, and there's nothing we can do about it. God-come-to-earth is worth celebrating because, left to ourselves, we are enslaved to sin and darkness and heartache, and we are guilty of the vilest sins, worthy of God's wrath and deserving of everlasting punishment, and we can't do anything about it.
God-come-to-earth is worth celebrating because Jesus came - came as a baby and grew to be a man - and He took the punishment for our sins.
The Christ-child in the manger is worth celebrating because Jesus brought light to our darkness. But you won't see the light until you are convicted and convinced of the darkness.
Please understand, reader, I don't want to depress you on Christmas Eve. Not at all. But our joy in Christmas and our celebration can be so much deeper if we think about what it means that Jesus came to earth and rescued us from our brokenness.
So, as we grieve and pray for families who lost loved ones at Sandy Hook, let us not lose heart. The world will try to cope but ultimately has no hope to offer us. Let us then turn with ever-deepening gratitude that Jesus Christ, God's Son, has rescued us from deepest darkness and has invited us into His kingdom of light and life. It is true that we will grieve, but we also hope. We are broken and lost, but He is our Healer and Redeemer, and in Him there is hope in abundance.
But, joking aside, sometimes words are inadequate. When I see a breathtakingly beautiful sunrise or sunset, I can't find words to describe that kind of beauty. When I hear music composed so that it plays on my heartstrings, I'm speechless.
When it comes to tragedy like the shooting of children and adults at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut, on December 14 - when it comes to the utter grief of the families who lost loved ones - there really are no words. Nothing I can say will make it better or easier. Nothing I can say will come close to expressing the heartache of those families and that community. There are some depths of the human heart that words cannot touch.
Thus, I have been slow to write anything recently. How could I?
Another reason I have hesitated to write about this tragedy is because of the journalistic rule of timeliness. You're supposed to write about it as soon as it happens so that people still care. So that you're not writing about old news. Well, for one thing, this is not a news blog, nor am I a journalist. Further than that, however, we should never think of such a thing as the Sandy Hook shooting as "old news." Our hearts should heal, yes, but they should not become hardened. Certainly, for those families and that community, I imagine the grief is still as sharp and overwhelming as it was the day after the shooting. Perhaps it is now that the shock of it has begun to wear off, and they feel the pain more sharply than ever. We cannot forget about them just because ten days have passed - it's not old news to them, and they need our prayers and support.
Now, some people would criticize me for this, but I don't like getting involved in political debate or discussion. I'm not good at debating, and I usually don't know enough about the issues to have any meaningful contribution. And, like I said, all the talking and the political arguments cannot heal the hearts of those Connecticut families.
However, watching the world react to the Sandy Hook tragedy compels me to speak. But I don't really have anything "political" to say. Many people see the tragedy and don't know what to do, so they rail against the NRA and call for more stringent gun laws. The problem with their reactions is that the problem we face - the reason for tragedy and heartache - isn't a political issue at all. It isn't about laws and institutions. The problem is our own hearts. The problem is the fact that every single person's heart is full of wickedness, and we are in desperate need of a Redeemer.
The world sees the darkness and doesn't know what to do with it. Without God, the world tries to make sense of things by blaming the maker of the tool used to commit the murder and by creating more laws. But those things are ultimately empty. If a man's heart is set upon committing such a heinous crime, no amount of gun restrictions will stop him.
Without God, there is no hope.
And that's just the point of Christmas, isn't it?
Because Christmas has become such a cheerful holiday, we forget the darkness and horrible silence to which Jesus came when He was born. The nation of Israel had suffered four hundred years of silence from God. At the end of Malachi in the Old Testament - after their nation's history had been full of God communicating with them - God became completely silent. He had promised a deliverer, and that's all they could hold onto, because He didn't say anything to them for four hundred years. Four hundred years. Just take a minute to wrap your mind around that. ... How many generations must have passed that heard about God but nothing from God Himself?
Furthermore, by the time the book of Matthew opens up the New Testament, Israel has no king and is under the dominion of Rome. I imagine that most people felt hopeless when they thought of all God's promises. And God Himself steps into that darkness.
I try not to rail against the commercialism that our culture has brought to the Christmas season. I actually enjoy the decorations and feasts and music and parties and gift-giving. In an article on Relevant Magazine online called "In Defense of the Christmas Rush," Ellen Painter Dollar says, "The rush of days, the piles of presents, the trees and the food and the ornaments... and all the rest - these are not distractions but testimonies to the thing."
We can feel free to get excited about decorating and giving gifts because we have something to celebrate. But it's important to remember why God-come-to-earth is something worth celebrating. It's worth celebrating because of tragedies like the Sandy Hook shooting and the darkness from which we cannot rescue ourselves. It's worth celebrating because man's heart is full of hatred and rage and lust and greed and pride, and there's nothing we can do about it. God-come-to-earth is worth celebrating because, left to ourselves, we are enslaved to sin and darkness and heartache, and we are guilty of the vilest sins, worthy of God's wrath and deserving of everlasting punishment, and we can't do anything about it.
God-come-to-earth is worth celebrating because Jesus came - came as a baby and grew to be a man - and He took the punishment for our sins.
The Christ-child in the manger is worth celebrating because Jesus brought light to our darkness. But you won't see the light until you are convicted and convinced of the darkness.
Please understand, reader, I don't want to depress you on Christmas Eve. Not at all. But our joy in Christmas and our celebration can be so much deeper if we think about what it means that Jesus came to earth and rescued us from our brokenness.
So, as we grieve and pray for families who lost loved ones at Sandy Hook, let us not lose heart. The world will try to cope but ultimately has no hope to offer us. Let us then turn with ever-deepening gratitude that Jesus Christ, God's Son, has rescued us from deepest darkness and has invited us into His kingdom of light and life. It is true that we will grieve, but we also hope. We are broken and lost, but He is our Healer and Redeemer, and in Him there is hope in abundance.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Holy Sweet Potatoes, Batman!
A question I enjoy asking people every year around this time is what their favorite Thanksgiving dish is. It's fun to watch people when they talk about it, whether their favorite is stuffing or green bean casserole or cranberry sauce or the turkey. People rarely seem content with quick descriptions of those dishes. They usually tell me who makes it and how they've been making it for years and sometimes what's in it, little realizing how their eyes light up and their voices fill with relish as they talk.
For me, that dish is my Aunt Kathy's sweet potato casserole. Oh. Man. As a kid, I refused to eat it because I didn't think I liked sweet potatoes. But one year at the beginning of high school, someone got me to try a bite. My eyes were opened, and I haven't looked back since. The way Aunt Kathy makes it, this dish gets eaten up faster than pretty much any other food item on the table. And she doesn't mess with that marshmallow topping nonsense. The topping is pecans and brown sugar goodness all the way.
I'm seriously salivating right now, just thinking about it.
In a conversation with a friend the other day, I mentioned how much I was looking forward to Aunt Kathy's sweet potatoes. Her response was, "Lusting after that food already, huh?"
When she first said it, it seemed funny, so I just smiled and said, "Oh yeah! For weeks now." However, the more I thought about it, the more it just didn't sit right with me. Is excitement and anticipation of delicious food equal to unholy craving? Is the longing for Thanksgiving food - or any food - wrong? Is it sinful in any way? I don't want to dismiss the idea just because it might challenge the way I think about food. So let's think about it for a minute.
I know that gluttony is a sin, and the simple dictionary definition of that is eating excessively. But I don't know that it's the eating itself that offends God. It's the idolatry that lies in eating too much. The act of putting one's hope in food rather than in God, believing that food will satisfy the longings and soothe the aching of one's heart, the overindulgence in one of God's gifts that He pours on us to steward and enjoy. When I feel depressed or discouraged or bored, and I turn to food instead of God, seeking to fill my soul by filling my belly, that reveals idolatry. This kind of eating is not okay. It's not honoring to God.
But does that mean that we can't eat our fill of delicious food and enjoy it wholeheartedly? When Jesus fed the five thousand, the Gospel of Mark says that "They all ate and were satisfied" (6:42). A speaker at my church said that means that the people ate and were stuffed. They didn't just eat until they weren't hungry. They ate until they were completely full. Jesus gave them more food than they needed just to live. He gave them a feast.
The story of that miracle glorifies God, and we can glorify God by feasting and thanking Him for the bounty He gives us.
Last night I had a pre-Thanksgiving feast with some friends, and for dessert, we shared an amazingly rich chocolate pie. After my first bite, I smiled at my friend Beka and said, "Oh! This is praise Jesus food!" I say that often when I eat something delicious because I want praise to be my response when I enjoy food. God created taste and flavor. He gave us tastebuds, and He created food not only to sustain us but to delight us. It's true, we can deal with food sinfully, just as we can with anything else.
But our enjoyment of food can also be holy. When we eat food and delight in it and thank God for it, that is good. God delights in our delight in His gifts when it is ultimately delight in Him. So when I eat Aunt Kathy's sweet potato casserole tomorrow, I am going to eat it with joy and praise God for it. And I'm going to eat Thanksgiving dinner till I'm stuffed, and I won't feel one bit guilty. I will enjoy great food, because I have a great God who gives delicious gifts.
I'm seriously salivating right now, just thinking about it.
In a conversation with a friend the other day, I mentioned how much I was looking forward to Aunt Kathy's sweet potatoes. Her response was, "Lusting after that food already, huh?"
When she first said it, it seemed funny, so I just smiled and said, "Oh yeah! For weeks now." However, the more I thought about it, the more it just didn't sit right with me. Is excitement and anticipation of delicious food equal to unholy craving? Is the longing for Thanksgiving food - or any food - wrong? Is it sinful in any way? I don't want to dismiss the idea just because it might challenge the way I think about food. So let's think about it for a minute.
I know that gluttony is a sin, and the simple dictionary definition of that is eating excessively. But I don't know that it's the eating itself that offends God. It's the idolatry that lies in eating too much. The act of putting one's hope in food rather than in God, believing that food will satisfy the longings and soothe the aching of one's heart, the overindulgence in one of God's gifts that He pours on us to steward and enjoy. When I feel depressed or discouraged or bored, and I turn to food instead of God, seeking to fill my soul by filling my belly, that reveals idolatry. This kind of eating is not okay. It's not honoring to God.
But does that mean that we can't eat our fill of delicious food and enjoy it wholeheartedly? When Jesus fed the five thousand, the Gospel of Mark says that "They all ate and were satisfied" (6:42). A speaker at my church said that means that the people ate and were stuffed. They didn't just eat until they weren't hungry. They ate until they were completely full. Jesus gave them more food than they needed just to live. He gave them a feast.
The story of that miracle glorifies God, and we can glorify God by feasting and thanking Him for the bounty He gives us.
Last night I had a pre-Thanksgiving feast with some friends, and for dessert, we shared an amazingly rich chocolate pie. After my first bite, I smiled at my friend Beka and said, "Oh! This is praise Jesus food!" I say that often when I eat something delicious because I want praise to be my response when I enjoy food. God created taste and flavor. He gave us tastebuds, and He created food not only to sustain us but to delight us. It's true, we can deal with food sinfully, just as we can with anything else.
But our enjoyment of food can also be holy. When we eat food and delight in it and thank God for it, that is good. God delights in our delight in His gifts when it is ultimately delight in Him. So when I eat Aunt Kathy's sweet potato casserole tomorrow, I am going to eat it with joy and praise God for it. And I'm going to eat Thanksgiving dinner till I'm stuffed, and I won't feel one bit guilty. I will enjoy great food, because I have a great God who gives delicious gifts.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Thanks Before Giving
Reader, it has begun. It began weeks ago.
On a trip to Walmart last week, no sooner had I walked in the door than I heard Bing Crosby crooning Christmas tunes on the overhead speaker. Christmas decorations lined the shelves as I walked in, and the home and garden section looked like a pitiful forest of plastic pine trees guarded by a giant blow-up Santa.
Really, Walmart? Really? I thought. November seriously just started. Must you forget about Thanksgiving? It gets me every year. Beside selling a few turkey stuffed animals wearing pilgrim hats and stocking up on giant turkeys in their meat section, Walmart completely skips over our nation's gratitude holiday. But Walmart isn't the only culprit. If you watch your TV for any length of time, you are bound to see a Christmas-themed commercial from any number of stores. I actually saw some of those commercials before Halloween! And, I don't want to rant and rave, but it drives me crazy.
Don't get me wrong, reader. I love Christmas. I mean, I love Christmas. If you know me really well, you know that around Christmas time, I become like a seven-year-old who's eaten 10-too-many candy canes. I get giddy-excited about Christmas decorations and music and lights and food and sweaters and parties and giving presents and receiving presents and everything about it. I seriously love Christmas. I can't wait to listen to Bing Crosby's Christmas album and wear my green t-shirt with my red cardigan and start wearing a Santa hat around the house (and possibly out in public). In fact, I'm the one in my family who will get out the Christmas decorations and make sure they get put up the weekend after Thanksgiving.
However, it has to be after Thanksgiving. I'm adamant about that.
Some people don't care. I know a few people who put up Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving, and I'm well aware that a lot of people start listening to Christmas music long before the season officially begins. Not me. Some people might think that I'm too strict about it, that it's really not a big deal. And maybe for them it isn't a big deal. Maybe I'm too strict about something that doesn't matter that much. To me, it matters, for three reasons.
First, it's tradition. Thanksgiving is a national holiday and therefore is worth remembering. Our culture often says that traditions don't hold any value, but that's not true. Traditions really are worthwhile, and spending November to anticipate and celebrate Thanksgiving is important. December (and the last few days of November) belong to Santa. The rest of November belongs to the Thanksgiving turkey. Let's keep it that way.
Second, Walmart does not celebrate Christmas because of Jesus. Our culture doesn't look forward to December 25 as a celebration of the coming of the Savior of mankind. In the eyes of the world, Christmas season is the shopping season. Thanksgiving definitely isn't a shopping season, so of course Thanksgiving gets skipped over. As a Christian, I can celebrate the coming of Christ all year long. In fact I should. But I don't believe I can truly honor God by skipping over the holiday dedicated to being grateful for what He's given me. I don't want to be a Grinch or a Scrooge, but I don't want to be like the culture either.
Thirdly and most importantly in my mind, I'm convinced that there's something important, vital even, about taking a month to be thankful for what we have before we take a month to spend so much of our time and thoughts on the giving and getting of presents. Gratitude comes before presents. Thanks must come before giving. Because we have been given so much.
Giving to others is a wonderful thing (and I honestly have been excited about Christmas ever since September), but taking time to give thanks for what God has given me is what allows me to give to others in any kind of genuine way. Giving from the place of gratitude is far more soul-feeding, life-giving, and joy-producing than giving simply because it's that time of year.
First, it's tradition. Thanksgiving is a national holiday and therefore is worth remembering. Our culture often says that traditions don't hold any value, but that's not true. Traditions really are worthwhile, and spending November to anticipate and celebrate Thanksgiving is important. December (and the last few days of November) belong to Santa. The rest of November belongs to the Thanksgiving turkey. Let's keep it that way.
Second, Walmart does not celebrate Christmas because of Jesus. Our culture doesn't look forward to December 25 as a celebration of the coming of the Savior of mankind. In the eyes of the world, Christmas season is the shopping season. Thanksgiving definitely isn't a shopping season, so of course Thanksgiving gets skipped over. As a Christian, I can celebrate the coming of Christ all year long. In fact I should. But I don't believe I can truly honor God by skipping over the holiday dedicated to being grateful for what He's given me. I don't want to be a Grinch or a Scrooge, but I don't want to be like the culture either.
Thirdly and most importantly in my mind, I'm convinced that there's something important, vital even, about taking a month to be thankful for what we have before we take a month to spend so much of our time and thoughts on the giving and getting of presents. Gratitude comes before presents. Thanks must come before giving. Because we have been given so much.
Giving to others is a wonderful thing (and I honestly have been excited about Christmas ever since September), but taking time to give thanks for what God has given me is what allows me to give to others in any kind of genuine way. Giving from the place of gratitude is far more soul-feeding, life-giving, and joy-producing than giving simply because it's that time of year.
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