Belonging

I hadn’t read any C.S. Lewis for a while until I picked up The Weight of Glory recently. He has two essays in there that are closely related. In “The Inner Ring” he talks about our desire to belong to some select group of people, and the perils of seeking the wrong kind of clique. He advises that the best kind of Inner Ring is that which happens accidentally—“four or five people who like one another meeting to do things that they like. This is friendship.”

Then in “Membership” Lewis addresses the complexities of individualism and collectivism within the Church. He writes,

“The very word membership is of Christian origin, but it has been taken over by the world and emptied of all meaning. In any book on logic you may see the expression ‘members of a class.’ It must be most emphatically stated that the items or particulars included in a homogeneous class are almost the reverse of what St. Paul meant by members. By members he meant what we should call organs, things essentially different from, and complementary to, one another, things differing not only in structure and function but also in dignity…”

Reading the two theses together got me thinking about what it means to belong. From our earliest childhood, we all desire a sense of belonging—in a family, a classroom, a group of friends, a society or club, etc. And some folks go to great lengths to fit in with a particular segment of people. Gang membership is peer pressure taken to extremes. Usually the members of a group have something in common, even if it just the kind of music they listen to or the shoes they buy. Facebook is built on the desire for people to belong to a circle of friends, acquaintances, or dog-lovers.

Lewis draws out a couple points worth considering. First, often our desire to belong is not so much that we have a lot in common with a group of people, but that by being on the “inside” we can feel superior to those who are outside. We may not even know or care what Society X does, but it gives us a feeling of power to know that we are members of an elite group.

Second, the Church is founded on an entirely different idea of membership. It was never meant to be a social club for like-minded individuals to belong to and therefore feel superior to those on the outside. In fact, there is nothing we can do to earn our membership in the body. We are chosen entirely on the basis of what someone else did for us—by Jesus’ death on the cross. We have no reason to feel superior when we realize what sinners we are. We have no merit of our own.

And as Lewis states clearly, members of the Church are not a homogenous class with every person looking, sounding, and serving in exactly the same way. Instead, we are unique organs with unique functions within a Body. (See Romans 12, 1 Corinthians 12, and Ephesians 4.) My role, appearance, location, and relationship to the other organs is not going to be quite the same as any other member. Lewis also points out that our value is not innate in our humanity, but it is conveyed to us by virtue of our place in the Body. God doesn’t go around looking for people able to fill a particular role. “There is no question of finding for him a place in the living temple which will do justice to his inherent value and give scope to his natural idiosyncrasy. The place was there first. The man was created for it. He will not be himself till he is there.”

These truths should impact us deeply as Christians. We should take great comfort in knowing that we belong to something far greater than ourselves. We shouldn’t feel the pressure to conform to some random standard of society in order to belong, but should have the most secure sense of belonging possible in Christ. In addition, we ought to be humbled to realize that we didn’t do anything to earn our place here, and no one else has to earn their right to belong either. In fact, we don’t really have any say in whether another belongs or not. That decision is entirely up to God.

May God forgive our prideful, judgmental, exclusionary approach to “doing church!”

“Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience” (Colossians 3:12 ESV).

Labels or Love?

Have you thought much about the Disney movie of Cinderella? It’s a nice story of the poor oppressed girl who is saved from a life of slavery to marry the Prince. There are probably several theological parallels that can be drawn from the story. But there’s one I hadn’t thought about till I came across this quote from Soren Kierkegaard as quoted in When People Are Big and God Is Small, by Edward Welch:

“Do you now know that there comes a midnight hour when everyone has thrown off his mask? Do you believe that life will always let itself be mocked? Do you think you can slip away a little before midnight to avoid this? Or are you not terrified by it? I have seen men in real life who so long deceived others that at last their true nature could not reveal itself…” (32-33)

Aside from the fact that it would shorten the story, why did Cinderella run away from the ball just as the clock was striking midnight? It seemed pretty evident that the Prince was in love with her since he danced with her all night and ignored the other girls. Yet Cinderella was terrified that he would see her as the enslaved, unwanted stepchild that was unworthy of his love. Of course, she eventually finds out that he doesn’t care about all that, though it’s not clear from the story whether he was judging her solely on her appearance.

Shame will make us do all kinds of dumb things—run away from people who love us, dress to play a part, avoid any potentially awkward situations, hold our tongue when we should speak up, put other people down to make ourselves look better, and so on. We all try to shape others’ perceptions of us to some degree.  

I started writing this post last week, but thought about it again on Sunday during the sermon on Jesus cleansing the leper, as I realized that leprosy became an identity for the victim. He wasn’t just sick, he was “unclean.” And though the passage in Mark 1:40-45 doesn’t specifically say so, I believe that when Jesus cleansed him, all of the physical manifestations of the disease were also removed. Why? Because his former appearance was intimately tied to the shameful identity of leper. If he were still missing fingers or features, people would always be aware and perhaps fearful of what he had been. And I believe that God is able to remove the stigma of shame. (Though I’ll admit that the scars of leprosy would also be a good witnessing tool. Interpret it however you like.)

Thankfully, leprosy is pretty uncommon now, but unfortunately shame is epidemic. We’d all like to have a prince come sweep us off our feet and take us to live in the palace, or touch us and heal every trace of disease, but for the time being we try to content ourselves with living in isolation, avoiding further pain. In many cases, the church has not helped to heal the shame. Believers are just as prone to label people as unbelievers are—“leper,” “HIV+,” “homosexual,” “adulterer,” “unwed mother,” “alcoholic,” “murderer,” “gossip,” “mentally ill,” etc. And when confronted with some hot-button topic, we can develop an “Us vs. Them” mentality. It’s as if we think that by talking only about categories we’ll never have to deal with individuals. And if we offend everyone in the process, we may be right!

But Jesus never did that. The only time He talked about categories was when He condemned the Pharisees for caring more about the law than about people. When Jesus fed the 5,000 He didn’t see a faceless crowd but a bunch of individuals in need. The disciples apparently saw only the crowd. When He cleansed the leper or healed the blind, He wasn’t just curing a disease but healing a person. Look at all the times the Gospels say that Jesus was moved with pity or compassion. I don’t believe you can truly be moved with compassion if you only see a crowd and not people, if you only see a label and not an individual, if you only see the “unclean” and not the man.

I would suggest that we need to have the eyes of Jesus. Wounds are healed, shame is dulled, people are saved, and lives are changed through the love of God as shown through individuals. I read an interview with the author of Get Real: Sharing Your Everyday Faith Every Day in byFaith magazine, who said the key to evangelism is not seeking someone to talk to, but rather finding someone to listen to. God doesn’t save groups, He saves individuals. Scripture doesn’t tell us “Love everyone,” it says “Love one another.” You have to really see the other one before you can love them.

“Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God” (1 John 4:7 ESV).

Looking for Fruit

I haven’t had much time or inclination for writing this week. I’ve been wrestling with the fleshly opposites of the Fruit of the Spirit, and joy, peace, patience, and self-control have been lacking. My frequent prayer has been, “Lord, do it for me because I can’t do it for myself!” And as I was reminded in chapel Wednesday (thanks to Travis Hutcheson), only Jesus can do the cleansing of the temple that we need to make His glory shine through us. (See 2 Chronicles 7:1-3, Mark 11:15-17, and 1 Corinthians 6:19-20.)

In the midst of these challenges, I’ve been reading some books by John Piper. In A Godward Heart, he writes:

“The death of Jesus for sin was planned before the foundation of the world. We know this because the book of Revelation refers to names written ‘before the foundation of the world in the book of life of the Lamb who was slain’ (Revelation 13:8), and because Paul tells us that God saved us by ‘grace, which he gave us in Christ Jesus before the ages began’ (2 Timothy 1:9). Therefore, since Christ was slain for sin, and since grace is God’s response to sin, we know that sin was part of the plan from the beginning... What is at stake in the sovereignty of God over sin is the ultimate aim of the universe, namely, the exaltation of the Son of God in the greatest act of wrath-removing, sin-forgiving, justice-vindication grace that ever was or ever could be...” (10-12).

I realize that many Christians don’t hold such a broad view of the sovereignty and foreknowledge of God, but I’m becoming more convinced of it day by day. And the more I believe in God’s foreknowledge of how sinful I would be, the more amazing His grace becomes. He had no reason to love or forgive any one of us, and yet He did. And His grace not only forgives our sin, but it changes us as well. Elyse Fitzpatrick writes in Overcoming Fear, Worry and Anxiety,

“Grace inclines our hearts to live lives that are sober and moderate... His grace bends our hearts toward righteousness. Whereas we once relished the thought of coddling our pet sin, we are now learning, by His grace, to hate it and to love righteousness... So you see, a true measure of God’s grace in one’s life isn’t careless living, rather, it’s a life bent toward holiness. And a correct understanding of His grace realizes that we’ll never be perfectly holy while here on earth” (186-187).

I take away several lessons from my reading and experiences of late. 1) God knows my sin and weakness and loves me anyway. 2) He is working to change me and grow His fruit in me. 3) He will work in His own time and way. That last point is both reassuring and frustrating. He will accomplish His purposes, but not on my schedule. I want to see the Fruit of the Spirit just bursting forth in my life, the way the flowers practically pop into bloom each spring. But then again, the flowers bloom and fade in a very short time. We have a lifetime to be refined and God is going to use every minute of it.

Another book I just finished is Healing Is a Choice, by Stephen Arterburn. He states, “God is with you and wants to grow your character. The quick fix or instant solution does not do that. Character is never instant, and God often uses our circumstances to build it within us... All of your sorrow and struggle and pain will be used for your good and His glory. He will not waste a thing” (201, 211). God can even use our sin shape us the way He wants us to be. If nothing else, it is a reminder of how much we need His grace to forgive us and change us.

“It is when we are conscious that we are feeble, and when we feel our need of aid, that the redeemer manifests His power to uphold, and imparts His purest consolations.” –Albert Barnes

“But by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace toward me was not in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them, though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me” (1 Corinthians 15:10 ESV).

The Big Picture

A few days ago I read Psalm 105, which talks about God’s wonderful works in choosing Abraham and giving him a land, sending Joseph ahead to Egypt to provide food for the Israelites during the famine, and then eventually redeeming the Israelites from Egypt through the work of Moses. And those are indeed marvelous works that we should remember in each successive generation.

In thinking particularly of Moses, I remembered someone who was important to the story, but we don’t even know his name. In Exodus chapter 2:11-12 we read:

“One day, when Moses had grown up, he went out to his people and looked on their burdens, and he saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, one of his people. He looked this way and that, and seeing no one, he struck down the Egyptian and hid him in the sand” (ESV).

And then the word gets out and Moses runs for his life, straight to the wilderness where he would live and learn for roughly the next 40 years. God had him where He wanted him. But did you catch what it took to get him there? Seeing one of his countrymen being beaten. Have you ever wondered what happened to that Hebrew? It doesn’t say that he died from his wounds, but we also don’t know if he lived to see Moses return and free the people from slavery. For all he could tell, his suffering was entirely in vain. But God used that man’s suffering to set up the sequence of events needed to get Moses in place.

Consider also the Hebrew women who lost their sons in order that Moses would be set adrift in a basket and found by the princess so he could be educated in the palace. Their suffering also seemed senseless at the time. And it is unlikely that many of them ever realized that their suffering provided a way for their future redemption from slavery, assuming they even lived long enough for Moses to reach adulthood.

There were a lot of individuals who suffered terribly while waiting for God’s plan to be fulfilled. And that still seems to be the case today. As we were reminded in Sunday’s sermon on Mark 1:29-34, Jesus came along and attracted a crowd, and He healed “many” of the sick and delivered “many” from demons. Something similar happened in John 5 at the pool of Bethesda. A multitude of invalids were there, but Jesus is only reported to have healed one. If you were one of the ones healed, I’m sure you’d be thrilled and would tell everyone what Jesus of Nazareth had done for you. But what if you weren’t healed? What if you had to be carried back home to the bed you’d occupied for the last thirty years? You might not be so enthralled with the God who allows suffering to continue.

It sounds cliché, but it really comes down to a question of faith—do you believe that God’s ways are higher than our ways, and He has plans that we can’t begin to conceive (see Isaiah 55:8-9)? The Bible is full of people who couldn’t understand why they went through often horrific circumstances. But through it all, God weaves the thread of His plan of redemption for mankind. He sets up rulers and tears down kingdoms; He controls the weather and the people; He knows our thoughts before we even speak them. If we call Him God, we have to believe that He is truly the Master of all things, including whatever difficult circumstances we may be facing right now. And if He is in control, then we have to trust that He will change our circumstances if and when He sees fit, and not a minute earlier.

That’s a concept I wrestle with on a regular basis. Several questions confront me frequently, and perhaps they are ones we all need to tackle at different times:

• Do I believe God is in control of all things, not just the big things?
• Do I believe that He can change things?
• Do I trust that He has heard my cries, and that He knows the desires of my heart?
• Am I content to wait on His timing, or am I trying to take things into my own hands?
• And if it is not His will for things to change the way I want, am I content to keep pressing on and trusting Him?
• Can I keep trusting that He is using all things for His good purposes, even when they don’t make sense to me?

“Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen” (Ephesians 3:20-21 NIV).

Learning to Count

Recently I read the following verses: “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom... Make us glad for as many days as You have afflicted us, and for as many years as we have seen evil” (Psalm 90:12, 15 ESV). That led me to consider how we learn to number our days. I’m sure we’ve all said, “Time flies when you’re having fun,” and we know how time seems to drag when things aren’t going well due to pain, stress, or other difficulties. Is it possible that we learn to number our days when time is slowed down by suffering? That makes sense when you consider verse 15. Moses, the author of this psalm, certainly understood times of difficulty. I’m sure that 40 years spent wandering in the wilderness didn’t pass in the blink of an eye. He may as well have kept 40 yearly calendars and marked off the days one by one.

John Piper writes, “The psalmist said in Psalm 119:71, ‘It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn Thy statutes.’ He does not say it was easy or fun or pleasant. In retrospect he simply says, ‘It was good for me.’ I was reading a book by a Scottish minister last week. This James Stewart said, ‘In love’s service, only the wounded soldiers can serve.’ That’s why I believe some of you are being prepared for some precious service of love right now. Because you are being wounded. Do not think that your wound has come to you apart from God’s gracious design. Remember His word: ‘See now that I, even I, am He, and there is no god besides Me... I wound and I heal...’ (Deuteronomy 32:39).” (http://www.desiringgod.org/articles/only-wounded-soldiers-can-serve)

Some lessons can be learned through a life of ease, but far more come through challenges and difficulties, or “opportunities” as one friend insists on calling them. Even in simple situations, it usually takes some difficulty before change looks preferable to the status quo. When computers or cars malfunction, we’re more likely to consider investing in something new than we are if everything is running smoothly. And when life trips us up, we start investigating what we might need to learn or do differently to restore a sense of order.

I’m not sure this is entirely good news. Learning to number our days seems to come most clearly from abiding through suffering. But it does lead to a “heart of wisdom,” which is something I think we’d all like to acquire. Affliction helps us to learn God’s statutes, trust Him more fully, depend on Him more dearly, communicate with Him more frequently, and love Him more openly.

Sometimes suffering comes from our own mistakes, and hopefully we do learn wisdom from those mistakes! But wisdom can come through many forms of suffering. It may be the young man who survives a bad car accident and now treasures his life and his family more than ever. It may be the father who suddenly loses his job and now has to determine what “luxuries” his family can do without. It can come through losing a loved one and being faced with the reality that eternal life is found only in Christ.

There are endless scenarios that lead to wisdom, but rarely does it come out of the clear blue sky. Even the wise King Solomon faced his share of struggles, questions, and mistakes. Although it’s definitely a good idea to pray for wisdom and seek wisdom as Proverbs tells us, it’s also a bit frightening to consider what it may take for that wisdom to develop. As many have said, if you pray for patience, you will face situations that try your patience. And if you pray for wisdom, you may face some situations that put you at the end of your rope. But when we come to the end of ourselves, then God has room to step in and do what He wants.

So pray for wisdom, but be careful what you ask for!

Misfits Fit to Serve

It seems to be a trend lately that the Sunday sermons correlate quite nicely with something I’m reading. After hearing “Jesus Calls Ordinary People,” I read the following from J.I. Packer in Never Beyond Hope:

“God, we realize, can get on very well without any of us. So it should give us an overwhelming sense of privilege that not only has he made us, loved and saved us but also he takes us as his working partners for advancing his plans. Thus Paul can call his colleagues and himself ‘Christ’s ambassadors’ and ‘God’s fellow workers’ (2 Cor. 3:20; 6:1), and tell us all to see ourselves in our own sphere as servants, ministers and workmen of God... And none of us is excluded, for Scripture shows God using the oddest, rawest, most lopsided and flawed of his children to further his work, at the same time as he carries on his sanctifying strategy for getting them into better moral and spiritual shape. This is a fact of enormous encouragement to sensitive souls who feel they are not fit to serve him” (18).

It does make you wonder why! When God is all-powerful, why does He enlist the help of failures and bumblers, the naïve and idiotic, self-centered and sinful people He created? I just happened to think of the Island of Misfit toys in the TV story of Rudolph. We’re all a bunch of misfits and nitwits, but for some reason God calls us to follow Him and to join Him in the work He is doing. Perhaps the deeper question is this—knowing that we would all be so flawed, why did He create us to begin with? Elyse Fitzpatrick comments,

“There, in time, before time began, the Trinity existed in perfect happiness within his person. He was not lonely; he never needed anything... But then, in overflowing love, grace, and mercy, God chose to make a covenant within himself... In love God made mankind, knowing what it would cost him, knowing all about Bethlehem and Calvary and all our sins before they even existed” (Found in Him, 30-31).

He created us in love. He redeemed us in love. He called us in love. And He gives us the ministry of loving one another. “He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before Him. In love He predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of His will... as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in Him, things in heaven and things on earth” (Ephesians 1:4-5,10 ESV). So God’s grand plan, cooked up before time began, was that He would create people who would one day be united with Him in love, even though it takes a rather convoluted path to get us there.

J.I. Packer is right that this should be an encouraging truth for us. It should also be astounding, humbling, empowering, and perhaps even a little frightening to realize that the Creator of the universe created us, loved us, and then called us to follow Him. It’s a distinct privilege, but it’s also an enormous responsibility—one that we would have no hope of fulfilling if it weren’t for the power of God made available to us and through us. On our own we could never please God, but because He has called us, He has also made possible the work He calls us to do. (See Hebrews 13:21.)

I like the prayer with which Packer closes his chapter on Samson (35):

“Holy Father, you know us, you have loved us and redeemed us through the blood-shedding of your Son, and exalted us to the glorious dignity of being your children and heirs. Keep us mindful of our privileged identity, and teach us to live lives that are Christlike in their maturity of faith and hope, their consistency in aiming to please you, and their humility in looking to you for the help we need at all times. Make us honest in recognizing our weaknesses of character and conduct, and in repenting of our sins. Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. So may we follow your servant Samson in contending for the welfare of your people, and by your grace go beyond him in self-denial and purity of heart and life. Through Jesus Christ, our Savior and our Lord. Amen.”

Safe with the Shepherd

I’ve been thinking about Psalm 23 since the sermon Sunday. (And since Pastor Matt didn’t post a sermon recap, I guess I can say whatever I want.) At the same time, I’ve been reading Desperate for Hope, by Bruce W. Martin, and he just happens to have a few comments on that psalm:

“We embrace the promises of God about abundant life, but overlook (or ignore) the clear teachings in Scripture that guarantee suffering as well. Sometimes these promises are right next to each other, in the same passage of Scripture, but we sort of mentally edit them out. For instances in Psalm 23...

-God is my shepherd. Claim. I’m all about that!
-I don’t lack anything. Claim. That sounds good.
-He gives me green pastures to rest in. Claim. Resting in comfort is good
-He leads me beside still waters. Claim. No reason to risk drowning in whitewater.
-He restores my soul. Unclaim! Sounds like my soul could be in bad shape.
-I’ll walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Unclaim! Sounds a little scary.
-He’ll provide when I am surrounded by enemies. Unclaim! I'd rather not have any enemies.

“You get the picture. It’s not that we specifically, consciously ‘unclaim’ those things, we just read over them glibly without really thinking about the implications” (p. 107).

I don’t believe we spend much time thinking about the condition of our souls. Yes, we want to have our soul “saved” and have the assurance of eternal life, but what about daily life? We want to have our sins forgiven, but we don’t give much thought to God’s process of purifying us through sanctification.

I was thinking about this recently while reading Matthew 22 and the parable of the wedding feast. I used to think this was a rather unfair story. If you go out and invite people to a wedding, why would you then throw them out because they aren’t dressed for it? But if you read this alongside Matthew 7:21-23, you get the picture that even though some people receive the “invitation” to eternal life, and maybe even think they are doing good things for the kingdom, they never really acknowledge their need of a Savior and allow Him to clothe them in His righteousness. I suspect many churchgoers are looking forward to heaven without ever submitting to Jesus’ lordship over their lives. They may be startled to find out they aren’t “dressed” for the occasion.

Several times in the book Martin states, “God is more intent on perfecting us through trouble than on protecting us from trouble.” Or to put it in Psalm 23 language, He’s more concerned with the condition and destination of our soul than with avoiding the dark valleys. Speaking as one of the sheep, there have been plenty of times when I’ve questioned the Shepherd’s wisdom in taking me along certain paths. I’ve wondered if He is really doing what’s best, or maybe He’s off looking for a lost sheep somewhere while I stumble along on my own.

Psalm 23 and John 10 are reassuring reminders that the Good Shepherd really does know what He’s doing. He cares for each of the sheep (not just the flock as a whole); He knows the terrain and leads the sheep to the good places for food and water; and He knows that the dark valleys are safe enough to pass through. But the Shepherd doesn’t bother explaining to the sheep where they are going, how they’re going to get there, or why this path is necessary. We have to trust that He has it under control and that the end result will be for our best. Only when we truly trust the Shepherd will we find that peace that comes from dwelling in His presence and under His care.

“But I trust in You, O Lord; I say, ‘You are my God.’ My times are in Your hand…” (Psalm 31:14-15a).