Bible prophecy is a vast, mysterious sea. In reading the book of Daniel in the Old Testament, I got bogged down yesterday with the first half of chapter eleven. My goal is not to know how facts and people in the Bible fit together, although that is a by-product of Bible reading. My goal is to know who God is behind all that the Bible has to say.
If I believe what God says, then "All Scripture is….profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness" (2 Timothy 3:16). This means that even prophecy will teach me, reprove me, correct me, and train me. Prophecy is there to equip me, not necessarily by charts and graphs that could be composed, but by something more. What was I missing?
After reading the first 28 verses I sat back, perplexed. (This, I might add, is what takes most of my daily reading time. I read and wonder. And pray. And think, asking questions. And read again. ) What one thought was God communicating? If I was going to journal on something, then the end of verse 27 seemed to sum up the passage: "but it will not succeed, for the end is still to come at the appointed time."
I wrote and ended my reading time with prayer, confident that God will accomplish His purpose, when I heard the three-letter-word echoing as I remembered parts of the passage. "Yada, yada, yada, but….," "Yada, yada, yada, but…." I began to read backward through the passage and there it was, over and over, the word, "but" or "yet." The people would make plans, those with influence and finances and power would endeavor to reach an end, but it never happened. At every turn, at every point of near achievement, God intervened. The hand of God reveals itself in the "but’s" of life.
The greatest intervention is in Ephesians 2:4 which follows the status of our dead, rotting lives and our deserved punishment of wrath—"But God…."
I can make plans, I can desire to serve others, I can foresee great opportunities, but without God’s intervention, there will be no success. "Without me, you can do nothing." Today, I am encouraged by two three-letter words of comfort that save, redeem, and sanctify: but God.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
Betrayed!
I went shopping Wendesday night for the church hayrack ride and bonfire. As I tootled through various stores collecting supplies, I took joy in purchasing items and in the thought of others enjoying the hot dogs and s’mores, an open fire and a wagon ride through the fields. There was a sense of satisfaction in providing for the pleasure of others. In some respects it was a secret mission as I was alone, with my own thoughts. There was no conflict. The attitude of my heart was open, free, unhindered. Content with the booty that filled the trunk of our car, I returned to pick up our children from their evening activity at church.
Then, as the sanctuary was nearly empty, an unfamiliar young lady began playing the piano. Large, loud chords filled the room followed by flowing arpeggios that rang from one end of the piano to the other. The contrasts of dynamics, melody, and harmony were no less than heaven sent. On and on she played. Close on the heels of amazement, however, was jealousy; that which listened for a mistake, for a slip, for some kind of error; the ooze of green steam which escapes the human heart and rises upward to cloud our thinking. As her playing came to a close, I found myself drawn to the piano and others who were with the young player.
Struggling to put self aside and find air through the green haze, I asked her name, her plans, sought to extend grace and appreciation. It was a gift, her playing, and it brought great blessing to the spirit even while the heart waged war.
Then—betrayal—I began to delve into my self. Not God’s name, not God’s ministry, not God’s provision, but my own. Oh, the shame. The loss of reward. The vanity which strips away joy, generosity, and peace. The shackles that come with attaching my efforts to a work of God, when I could choose the freedom of honoring and glorifying Him with my words rather than directing others’ thoughts toward myself.
This morning I am reminded that in "exercising godliness," failure is inherent. To exercise it to exert effort. To fail. To try again. And, little by little, to move closer to the goal. In service to our God and King, the goal is to honor and glorify Him. When my heart and words are self-focused, I have betrayed the One I serve. A heart of service is a humble heart. And humility is a part of being, not doing. It is a decision of the will forcing the heart to submission despite its ungainly emotions. It is a response of gratitude and service, not self-accolade. It is quiet and accepting. Humility is service that glorifies our God the King.
Then, as the sanctuary was nearly empty, an unfamiliar young lady began playing the piano. Large, loud chords filled the room followed by flowing arpeggios that rang from one end of the piano to the other. The contrasts of dynamics, melody, and harmony were no less than heaven sent. On and on she played. Close on the heels of amazement, however, was jealousy; that which listened for a mistake, for a slip, for some kind of error; the ooze of green steam which escapes the human heart and rises upward to cloud our thinking. As her playing came to a close, I found myself drawn to the piano and others who were with the young player.
Struggling to put self aside and find air through the green haze, I asked her name, her plans, sought to extend grace and appreciation. It was a gift, her playing, and it brought great blessing to the spirit even while the heart waged war.
Then—betrayal—I began to delve into my self. Not God’s name, not God’s ministry, not God’s provision, but my own. Oh, the shame. The loss of reward. The vanity which strips away joy, generosity, and peace. The shackles that come with attaching my efforts to a work of God, when I could choose the freedom of honoring and glorifying Him with my words rather than directing others’ thoughts toward myself.
This morning I am reminded that in "exercising godliness," failure is inherent. To exercise it to exert effort. To fail. To try again. And, little by little, to move closer to the goal. In service to our God and King, the goal is to honor and glorify Him. When my heart and words are self-focused, I have betrayed the One I serve. A heart of service is a humble heart. And humility is a part of being, not doing. It is a decision of the will forcing the heart to submission despite its ungainly emotions. It is a response of gratitude and service, not self-accolade. It is quiet and accepting. Humility is service that glorifies our God the King.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Not Nice!
It took me a long time to learn that being nice is not synonymous with being Christlike. I grew up thinking it was important to be nice.
And then, one day as I read the gospels I realized: Jesus was not nice. It isn't that, as the exact representation of God, He is not loving, compassionate, and kind. He is sacrificial to the point of death. But love, true love, is not about being nice. And Christlikeness is centered in God, not in others.
Being nice is about pleasing others: saying what they want to hear, dressing in a pleasing way, doing what they want you to do. That is when people will say you're "nice." When we serve others, we are putting the other person ahead of ourselves and this is a nice thing to do.
In Daniel chapter 5, however, Daniel is called to serve the king and the message he brings is not nice. It is asked for, it is necessary, and he is the only one able to translate God's message, but it is a message of death. It is not what the king, or the people, want to hear. It is not about "fixing" other people's problems or giving false reassurance. It's about allegiance to God in the face of difficulty.
I need to be a person of integrity despite the circumstances. This does not mean that I stand in self-righteous judgement or condemnation--and I have at times--for this is sin. This does not mean that I bow to the desires of others, but that I realize there will be times when serving others requires a boldness and steadfastness that is "not nice."
And then, one day as I read the gospels I realized: Jesus was not nice. It isn't that, as the exact representation of God, He is not loving, compassionate, and kind. He is sacrificial to the point of death. But love, true love, is not about being nice. And Christlikeness is centered in God, not in others.
Being nice is about pleasing others: saying what they want to hear, dressing in a pleasing way, doing what they want you to do. That is when people will say you're "nice." When we serve others, we are putting the other person ahead of ourselves and this is a nice thing to do.
In Daniel chapter 5, however, Daniel is called to serve the king and the message he brings is not nice. It is asked for, it is necessary, and he is the only one able to translate God's message, but it is a message of death. It is not what the king, or the people, want to hear. It is not about "fixing" other people's problems or giving false reassurance. It's about allegiance to God in the face of difficulty.
I need to be a person of integrity despite the circumstances. This does not mean that I stand in self-righteous judgement or condemnation--and I have at times--for this is sin. This does not mean that I bow to the desires of others, but that I realize there will be times when serving others requires a boldness and steadfastness that is "not nice."
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