Called by Name

I love being a substitute teacher. Many of us remember the way we treated substitutes when we were young and don't wish that on anyone. But it's a great job.  Really.

It didn't take long for me to learn that eavesdropping was my ticket to power.  Kids talk to each other--by name--as they enter a classroom.  As the bell rang, I would address at least one child specifically, "Caleb, take your seat." Shock registered on their faces. They didn't know me, but I knew them. By name. I'm convinced we remember what's important--and in my book, each student is important, from the 3-year-old who told me his name was "Jeremy Dean, Fat-Man McGee, but my friends call me Ralph," to the 17-year-old gang member whose dial is tuned in to respect.

God knows, by name, inside and out. He knows everything there is to know about each one of us--and He loves us anyway. Jesus knew His disciples before He called them. In fact, God loves us so much He'd rather die than let us go (song by Point of Grace). That's a lot of love.  More than we can imagine.

As those who minister in and out of the church, people matter. To wear His name, to be a little Christ, means we are more concerned about others--their likes and dislikes, goals and abilities--than ourselves. At those times when the project or the product is more important than the people, we are doing something wrong. To love others as Christ loves us is to know them. 

Last Saturday at an out-of-town competition, kindergartner Abby ran across the gym and threw her arms around my waist. My heart leaped with joy and a huge smile looked down on her.  Later, I wondered about God. How often does the sight of Him interrupt my day? I imagine it brings Him great joy when we remember Him, express our love, and draw His name into a conversation.

How often do I look for, do I see, Jesus in those unexpected places?  Am I just as happy and pleased to see him as the little ones who throw out my name along with their arms?  Do I speak His name to others?  How well do Jesus and I know each other? There is salvation in no other, "for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12) There is power in His name.

Now Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot.

They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?”
“They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus.
He asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?”
Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.”
Jesus said to her, “Mary.”
She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means “Teacher”). John 20:11-16
"...they will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads." Revelation 22:4

Lent, Sacrifice and Holiness

I ate fish at a fast food restaurant yesterday and was reminded of Lent.  It's not a corporate practice at our church, which would lead you to properly assume I attend a protestant church, but there is more and more of a trend toward practicing Lent among protestants in America.  Perhaps it's the prosperity and tingling of the conscience at the profound luxury we enjoy daily.  Perhaps it's a desire to more fully prepare for and enter the angst of Good Friday and the wonder of the resurrection.  Perhaps it provides a sense of control over one's holiness. 

This desire for control can be said of the many, many things we do that make us feel holy.  I have my own list. It could be teaching Sunday school, attending church (when other people are sleeping in!), reading my Bible, helping a friend, even sacrificing for my children.

But as examples come to mind, they are hinged like a Siamese twin to the reaction of others.  It's hard to separate the two. "You do that?!"  Gasp.  "Really?  That's wonderful!"  The voices cheer us on as we struggle to sacrifice and complete the task.  They keep us going and in the end, we feel good (God planned it that way--we reap what we sow). But then, like so many good things, the gift becomes the goal instead of the Giver.  Before long we're addicted to the praise of others and the good feelings that come from doing good things.

But wait, whoa.  God didn't say, "Do holy things because I do holy things."  Actually, "it is written, 'Be holy, for I am holy' (1 Peter 1:16).”  Ooh.  I can't do that.  And that's the kicker.  I can't "be" holy.  I am not, in my essence or anywhere else except my glorified imagination, holy.

So the good feelings do me no good.  Seeking to help and sacrifice does me no good--and it doesn't depend on my denomination or church or practice.  I.  Just. Can't. Be. Holy.

But, God!  God, by faith, has given holiness.  He has it all.  Somehow, in His great wisdom and foresight, He designed a way to transfer His holiness to me--through Jesus Christ.  It doesn't make sense.  I can't explain it, but God declares, "He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him" (2 Corinthians 5:21)

And there it is: holiness. Wonderfulness. Not my own, not to my credit, not for the praise of others, but eternal, internal, set-apartness for His glory and praise.  And I do holy things not to be holy, but because I am holy in and through Jesus Christ.

What a God!  The price of His holiness is beyond comprehension. The outpouring of His love is unfathomable. The depth of the riches of His grace is incomparable. And He has invited me to join Him both now and forever.  Forget the deeds, bring on God! That's what I need. That's what I want.

But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us,  even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up together, and made us sit together in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, that in the ages to come He might show the exceeding riches of His grace in His kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them. (Ephesians 2:4-10)

The Reward

When a radio host announced a recent death the other responded, "She's received her heavenly reward."
It struck me wrong and I had a lot of questions about this woman:  What kind of woman was she?  What kind of reward did she earn and how did she do it?  What about me?  What kind of reward(s) would I receive for my faithfulness?  Scripture started bubbling in my head about crowns and jewels and rewards, and before I knew it, that's what I was thinking about:  the rewards I'd receive in heaven someday.
God gives rewards.  He is a good Giver.  There are references throughout Scripture to heavenly rewards and blessings: crowns and jewels, for instance.  But those aren't the goal.
But my thoughts went immediately to Luke 17 and Jesus' story of the servant who does his job.  After a day in the field, he does not expect special favor.  He girds himself and serves his master before eating himself.  "Likewise you, when you have done all those things which you are commanded, say, ‘We are unprofitable servants. We have done what was our duty to do.’” (Luke 17:10-11)  How often do we think of heaven as something we've earned after a life of service?  We don't.  All that we do for the Father, through Jesus Christ, is nothing more than a reasonable act of service (Romans 12:1).
Our American society, with a feels-good, it's-all-about-my-self-esteem mentality, has lost touch with the reality of an eternal reward. We think that our faithfulness, our sacrifice, our attempts to give up the "good life," have earned a special place in heaven, a harp and a robe and a crown.  And it's not that God won't give us good gifts, great gifts, amazing gifts; but we certainly haven't earned them.  They've been bought at a price, and that price rested on the life and death of our Savior and His Father who lovingly gave His Son.
In reality, isn't an eternal reward  not getting the punishment I deserve? Isn't it an eternal reward to gaze on Christ--unveiled, personal and reigning?  Isn't there incredible reward in knowing I am eternally a citizen of His kingdom?  That's probably what the radio announcer meant, but the conversation made me think.
Last weekend I called home and talked to Dad.  Mom was gone.  Even during our call their little dog went to and from the laundry room looking for her.  "It won't be long until his faithfulness is rewarded," Dad said.
And I've been thinking about that.  Mom sent home special treats.  But Foo Foo kept looking.
What, I wondered, am I looking for?  What gets me up in the morning and keeps me moving throughout the day?  What do I dream of?  What do I fear?  I can only aim at one thing and expect to hit the target. What is that one thing that would find me curled up and resting, sighing with satisfaction? 
It has to be Jesus.  The hope is, "Just a while longer, and your faithfulness will be rewarded with the return of your Master."  There's nothing like it!

“Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also.  And where I go you know, and the way you know.”
Thomas said to Him, “Lord, we do not know where You are going, and how can we know the way?”
Jesus said to him, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me." (John 14:1-6)