In the Storm

Have you ever thought about the storms in Scripture? There are quite a few of them. The first and biggest was the flood in the days of Noah (Genesis 6-8). Noah had the privilege of hearing God’s direct commands to build the ark and take in the animals. But after the door was shut, it seems that God was silent for about a year. I imagine Noah and his family were wondering if the earth would ever reappear or if God had forgotten them. Eventually God did dry up the land and call Noah out of the ark.

Another familiar storm was the result of Jonah’s disobedience and fleeing from his call to Nineveh. The others in the ship somehow knew that this storm had a purpose behind it, and they cast lots to find out whose fault it was. Jonah was apparently ready to die in the sea, but God rescued him with a great fish. It’s not clear whether Jonah actually learned his lesson or not. He did what God commanded, but grumbled about it to the end.

In the Gospels there are a couple storms mentioned. In the first, the disciples were headed across the lake while Jesus was asleep in the boat. A storm arose that frightened even the experienced fishermen among them. They woke Jesus, who stilled the storm and then asked them, “Where is your faith?” Their response was to marvel, “Who then is this, that He commands even the winds and water, and they obey Him?” (Luke 8:25).

Later on, Jesus sent the disciples into the boat alone while He took time to pray. When He came walking on the sea, they were terrified, “but immediately Jesus spoke to them, saying, ‘Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid” (Matt. 14:27). Peter was bold enough to get out of the boat, but began to sink when he took his eyes off Jesus. This storm ended with the disciples worshiping Jesus, saying, “Truly You are the Son of God” (v. 33).

One other prominent storm occurred with the Apostle Paul in Acts 27. The crew of the ship made an ill-advised decision to leave port and ended up in a major storm that lasted at least two weeks. Under divine guidance, Paul urged them to stay with the ship and to eat when they could. They finally ran aground and managed to make it to shore on the debris of the ship with all lives saved.

From just these few examples, we see that the storms of life may be a result of individual sin (Jonah), the sin of the multitudes (Noah), bad decisions (Acts), to reveal the Savior (the disciples), or for other unknown reasons. In Finding Jesus in the Storm, John Swinton writes “Retrospective spiritual direction allows people to see where God was in the midst of the storms and to help them use that knowledge as an encouragement and source of hope now and for the future” (p. 214). While I agree with that in principle, I know that it’s easier to see how God was at work after the fact than it is during the storm. When you’re focused on survival, it can be hard to remember God’s faithfulness. When you’re busy bailing water, you don’t always remember the blessings of nets full of fish (John 21:6-7) or deliverance from danger (2 Cor. 11:25-30).

Like David we may be saying, “Save me, O God! For the waters have come up to my neck. I sink in deep mire, where there is no foothold; I have come into deep waters, and the flood sweeps over me” (Psalm 69:1-2). Whether the storm is physical, mental, emotional, or relational, there is a spiritual aspect to it. Storms test our faith and our understanding of who God is and how He will act. C.S. Lewis wrote, “We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be” (Letter to Father Peter Bide 4/19/59, Collected Letters Vol. 3).

When we struggle to remember God’s presence and we doubt His care, we need others who can remind us of the truth—not just quoting Scripture at us or speculating as to what God is up to, but walking with us through the storm, embodying God’s love and grace, and praying for God to sustain us in the darkest of nights. We need more people like that in our churches.

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you” (Isaiah 43:2).

© 2022 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture are ESV and all images are copyright free from pixabay.com. The opinions stated do not necessarily reflect the views of my church or employer.

Seen and Unseen

In all the hype and talk about social media—its dangers and delights—it occurred to me recently that there’s a benefit that perhaps gets overlooked at times. Seeing likes or comments on your post gives the sense of being seen by others. It doesn’t really matter what the post is about—it’s an affirmation that we do exist and are not invisible. That may seem like an inconsequential thing, but consider the fact that through the pandemic there were untold numbers of people living in complete isolation and skyrocketing statistics on depression and anxiety. And isolation still lingers for many people.

I started thinking about the people who show up on my Facebook feed regularly (recognizing that algorithms control that in ways I can’t comprehend), and a large percentage of them are women who never married or are single again. In this podcast transcript from The Gospel Coalition, the comment was made that women use social media to connect with friends and family more so than men do. For those who live alone, social media is a small point of contact to say, “I’m still here and I hope you see me.” And for those who are not working outside the home, through retirement or other reasons, there can be a real deficiency in human contact most days of the week.

Scripture has a variety of references to being seen. One is in Genesis 16 when Hagar fled from Sarai into the wilderness. God speaks to her and her response is, “You are the God who sees me… I have now seen the One who sees me” (16:13 NIV). Another time, when Israel is suffering in bondage in Egypt, we’re told, “God saw the people of Israel—and God knew” (Ex. 2:25).

Jesus was also keen to see and reach out to people who were suffering and who lacked connection in the community.

• Matthew 9:20-22 – “And behold, a woman who had suffered from a discharge of blood for twelve years came up behind Him and touched the fringe of His garment… Jesus turned, and seeing her He said, ‘Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well.”
• Luke 7:12-15 – “As He drew near to the gate of the town, behold, a man who had died was being carried out, the only son of his mother… And when the Lord saw her, He had compassion on her… And He said, ‘Young man, I say to you, arise.’ And the dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother.”
• Luke 13:11-12 – “And behold, there was a woman who had had a disabling spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not fully straighten herself. When Jesus saw her, He called her over and said to her, ‘Woman, you are freed from your disability.’”
• John 5:5-6 – At the pool of Bethesda, “One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, He said to him, ‘Do you want to be healed?’”

Sometimes the church is not so good at seeing the suffering and lonely individuals in our midst. In many churches, the only time we acknowledge sorrow is at funerals. Our worship services rarely include songs of lament, and prayer times often only include physical needs. In his book Finding Jesus in the Storm: The Spiritual Lives of Christians with Mental Health Challenges, John Swinton writes:

“If our liturgical practices do not take onboard the full breadth of human experiences, our formation will be incomplete… ‘We don’t name, we don’t lift up mental illness in our litany of concerns, so people feel invisible.’ The suggestion that some people may become invisible in worship is deeply troubling. If… some among us ‘disappear’ because of the shape of our worship practices, then all of us are failing in our task to honor God and to love our neighbor” (208-209).

Whether it’s in our church services or in daily life, to be the Body of Christ we need to follow Jesus' example of truly seeing those around us and making sure they don’t fall through the cracks and disappear.

“If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together” (1 Cor. 12:26).

***

© 2022 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture are ESV and all images are copyright free from pixabay.com. The opinions stated do not necessarily reflect the views of my church or employer.

Do You Know?

Do you know
Christians suffer,
sorrow remains,
Satan attacks,
sin makes us stumble?

Do you know
life hurts,
joy wanes,
hope hides,
pain silences praise?

Do you know
unanswered questions,
unrealized desires,
unspoken needs,
the high stakes of suffering?

Do you know
the doubt,
the aloneness,
the discomfort,
of life torn apart?

Do you know
grace is not
always rescue,
but power
to keep enduring?

Do you know
it takes courage
to gather
with joyful saints
and overcomers?

Do you know
we need
sacred spaces,
scars seen,
lament welcomed?

Do you know
sorrow comes
before joy,
we ache for the
coming kingdom?

Do you know
salvation comes
from God,
not self-sufficiency
and striving?

Do you know
Jesus willingly
accepted suffering,
the Spirit
groans on our behalf?

Do you know
you are never
too broken,
too needy
for Christ’s kingdom?

Do you know
we are
formed by affliction,
shaped by suffering,
conformed to the image of Christ?

Do you know
we are
canvases of
God’s art,
reflecting our Savior?

“Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when His glory is revealed” (1 Pet. 4:12-13).

***

Inspired by thoughts from chapter 9 of This Too Shall Last: Finding Grace When Suffering Lingers, by K. J. Ramsey: “We will have suffering in this world, and as we courageously endure it, the whole church will better know the sustaining power and presence of Christ.”

© 2022 Dawn Rutan text and image. Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture are ESV. The opinions stated do not necessarily reflect the views of my church or employer.

Out of the Depths

As I write this, I’m in an emotional pit created by a combination of sleepless nights, chronic depression, seasonal depression, and situational depression. In the midst of this, I started reading Embodied Hope: A Theological Meditation on Pain and Suffering, by Kelly Kapic. Although he writes from the perspective of those dealing with physical suffering, much of what he says can be applied to almost any situation. From the back cover, “Too often the Christian attitude toward suffering is characterized by a detached academic appeal to God’s sovereignty, as if suffering were a game or a math problem.” I would describe the book as an appeal to Christians to comfort those who mourn, not with theological treatises or vague platitudes, but by coming alongside the sufferer and entering into their pain. Following are some quotes:

“Even if we had in hand a theodicy [theology reconciling God’s goodness and our pain] that made sense, such dispassionate philosophical explanations leave us empty when we walk in the fire and ashes of genuine suffering. While there is a time to carefully dissect these philosophical problems, that time is not normally with those who are suffering” (ch. 2).

“Claims to provide the reason for a specific experience of suffering abound: divine discipline, for the purpose of church renewal, to bring a watching nurse or neighbor to salvation, or to foster personal humility. Unfortunately, all these claims are made without the true knowledge of exactly why something is happening. Even if these suggestions contain an element of truth, we are not in a position to unpack the mind of God regarding such mysteries… Such explanations assume that some good outcome can nullify or justify the pain, but this is not so. A tragedy is still a tragedy; pain is still pain, even if some insight is gained in the process” (ch. 2).

“Each person is coming from a different circumstance, with specific challenges and needs, with individual strengths and temptations. Part of loving well is figuring out what response is needed and appropriate in a given circumstance (see Jude 22-23). This is where theological instincts and pastoral wisdom come together. To be pastoral does not mean earning money for working in a church… Pastoral in this sense refers to the ability to give wise counsel, to know how to love well, provide necessary guidance, and in the end to help a fellow believer flourish under God’s grace and love” (ch. 2).

Even as our hearts can be prone to question, filled with dread and doubt, let us take confidence that our God personally understands us, not hypothetically but concretely in Christ. Jesus wept tears, for in and through his incarnate life he had fully entered into the drama of fallen human experience. His ache and struggle give new meaning to our tears and suffering: God cares about our sin and distress so much that he enters into it himself” (ch. 7).

“Living within this story means that we strengthen our weakened sisters and brothers by drawing them to and reminding them of the word, presence, and action of the triune God, becoming avenues of God’s grace and mercy… The Christian life requires not an individual but a people—the people of God. Only together can we believe, hope, and love amid our struggles” (ch. 9).

“Amid such difficult seasons of life, [Martin] Luther understood that the fog of doubt often obscures the believer’s vision: accordingly, the taunts of hell often grow louder during those periods. He recognized this because he lived it himself… He wrote, ‘I almost lost Christ in the waves and blasts of despair and blasphemy against God, but God was moved by the prayers of saints and began to take pity on me and rescued my soul from the lowest hell.’ Luther knew that in times of physical and emotional distress saints often struggle to believe and are afflicted with confused images of God and his work in the world. During such seasons the Christian leans heavily on the faith and prayers of other saints, for by them one is sustained or even ‘rescued’” (ch. 9).

“[Martin Lloyd-Jones and others] counseled their followers to preach to themselves and embrace the good news of Jesus and his kingdom. Still, the weakness of this prescription, taken by itself, is that it is overly individualistic, ignoring our nature as members of a larger body, and thus also inherently unstable when isolated. Lloyd-Jones’s assertion that ‘the main art in the matter of spiritual living is to know how to handle yourself’ ignores the problem that we don’t always know how to handle ourselves, nor can we be trusted to handle ourselves. We need others” (ch. 10).

“Each case has its own distinct shape and needs its own response. But each of them brings its own real trauma. Each person will deal with it differently: some in silence, some in outbursts of rage, some with an athletic commitment to beat the grief, some with a sense of shame, and still others trying to discover a stoic detachment. What those who are trying to help do not always appreciate is that there is real power in simply walking with another person through that particular experience, bearing witness to the real challenges” (ch. 11).

“Witnessing one another’s pain also offers us the ability to find rest… When a friend shares my outrage I am actually quieted; I am allowed to rest, for someone else has taken up the concern. But if their response is ‘That is no big deal,’ and I am sure it actually is a big deal, then my irritation and frustrations grow rather than diminish. What I need is not for someone to tell me everything is okay; I need them to acknowledge that something is wrong—that I am not insane, but a real problem is at hand… The witness doesn’t actually make the pain go away, doesn’t actually fix everything, but I no longer feel isolated” (ch. 11).

“Christians with similar pains may have good things to say to their fellow sufferers. However, often what ends up happening is one person’s suffering trumps another’s, undermining the loss instead of offering true comfort… Why did such well-meaning offerings trigger in me a nasty train of thought? They were only trying to help… What I discovered was that suffering isn’t a contest, and comparing can often leave one person feeling guilty and the other bitter… However, even in our very similar circumstances, we must carry our sufferings to Christ” (ch. 11).

***

At various times I’ve experienced people theologizing, minimizing, avoiding, or giving the “Everything’s gonna be alright” speech. Those are the people I generally want to avoid. I’ve also experienced those who pray for me, ask genuine questions about my wellbeing, and quietly point to God’s loving care even while I express my doubts and fears. They may not be able to fully enter into the valley with me, but they aren’t just shouting at me from the mountaintop. As Kapic concludes chapter 10:

“May we, as the people of God, care for one another in love. May we truly be the body of Christ. May we confess our sins to one another, offering honesty, grace, and transformed lives. Let us love one another in grace and truth. We are sinners. We are under the cross. Here is our hope. May it be so.”

***

Listen to I Will Wait for You (Psalm 130) by Keith and Kristyn Getty.

© 2022 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture are ESV. Book cover courtesy of Amazon.com. The opinions stated do not necessarily reflect the views of my church or employer.

Amateurs!

According to Dictionary.com, amateur originates from the Latin word for lover and means:

1. a person who engages in a study, sport, or other activity for pleasure rather than for financial benefit or professional reasons.
2. an athlete who has never competed for payment or for a monetary prize.
3. a person inexperienced or unskilled in a particular activity.
4. a person who admires something; devotee; fan.

In Luke 7:36-50, Jesus was invited to the home of a Pharisee for dinner. The Pharisees were the religious “professionals,” who worked hard to keep all the commandments and added more commandments just to be on the safe side. During the meal a woman who was known to be a sinner (often assumed to be a prostitute, but the Bible doesn’t say that) comes and washes Jesus’ feet with her tears and wipes them with her hair. Jesus uses her example to point out, “her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little” (v. 47). This woman, who was considered a religious amateur because of her lack of obedience to the law, was held up as an example to the professionals because of her love.

Growing up in churches of various denominations (because we moved frequently), I got the impression that Christianity was about obeying the laws of the Old Testament, especially the Ten Commandments. I knew from a young age that I was a sinner in need of repentance. I don’t remember ever hearing a clear presentation of the Gospel message—that we can never perfectly obey God’s standards and that is why Jesus came to die for us, so that by believing in Him we could be made right with God and considered holy in God’s eyes. Up until college, as far as I knew it was all up to me to be as good as I could and to confess my sins and hope that God would let me off the hook one more time.

I worked hard to be a professional Christian, not knowing that Jesus Christ is more interested in amateurs—those who know they can’t live up to the perfect standard but follow Him out of love. Even years later I find myself thinking “I should be better than this by now.” To paraphrase Brennan Manning’s words, “God expects more failure from you than you expect from yourself.”

In 1 John 4:19 we learn that “We love because He first loved us.” Working backward in that chapter, His love casts out fear of punishment (v. 18), we can have confidence before God (v. 17), we abide with Him daily (v. 16), and we love others with the same kind of love (vv. 7-12). When Jesus was asked to name the greatest commandment, He responded, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets” (Matt. 22:37-40). Christian faith is not about trying harder to be perfect, but about loving the One who first loved us and letting His love flow in and through us.

There is no call for religious professionals in the Kingdom of God. We are all called to be amateurs—for the love of God. The Apostle Paul threw away his religious credentials “because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord” (Phil. 3:8). Religiosity will tend to make us (like the Pharisees) think of ourselves more highly than we ought. But remembering that we are only saved because of God’s grace should make us grateful recipients and loving followers.

“For the love of Christ controls us, because we have concluded this: that One has died for all, therefore all have died; and He died for all, that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for Him who for their sake died and was raised” (2 Cor. 5:14-15).

© 2022 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture are ESV and all images are copyright free from pixabay.com. The opinions stated do not necessarily reflect the views of my church or employer.

Strong and Weak

There’s a poem from Dietrich Bonhoeffer that I often remember, “Who Am I?” (You can read the whole poem here.) The gist of it is the question of whether he is the confident public persona he projects or the “contemptible woebegone weakling” that he experiences internally, or both at the same time. That’s probably a question we all face at times. (At least, I hope I’m not the only one!) We can be pretty good at portraying confidence and competence in certain areas of life while simultaneously feeling like idiots for our failures and weakness in other areas.

I’ve probably written before that pride and shame are two sides of the same coin. We all crave approval and affirmation, and we generally try to hide anything that makes us look bad. But then we read the words of the Apostle Paul in his letters to the Corinthian believers. He talks about boasting in the wrong things (2 Cor. 10:12-18), God using the weak and foolish to shame the wise (1 Cor. 1:26-31), and he concludes, “Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me” (2 Cor. 12:9b).

Throughout his letters, Paul refers to the strength that comes from God. He uses multiple Greek words that are sometimes translated establish or commit or empower, depending on what Bible translation you prefer. Here are just a few of his statements (Strong’s numbers noted):

• “[I pray] that according to the riches of His glory He may grant you to be strengthened [2901] with power through His Spirit in your inner being” (Eph. 3:16).
• “Finally, be strong [1743] in the Lord and in the strength [2904] of His might” (Eph. 6:10).
• “I can do all things through Him who strengthens [1743] me” (Phil. 4:13).
• “Being strengthened [1412] with all power, according to His glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy” (Col. 1:11).
• “Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him, rooted and built up in Him and established [950] in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving” (Col. 2:6-7).

Bonhoeffer makes the comment in a letter to Eberhard Bethge of July 16, 1944,

“Matt. 8:17 makes it quite clear that Christ helps us not by virtue of his omnipotence but rather by virtue of his weakness and suffering! This is the crucial distinction between Christianity and all religions… The Bible directs people toward the powerlessness and the suffering of God; only the suffering God can help.”

Our existence, our salvation, our sanctification, and our service are not by our own strength and abilities, but because of Christ alone. We can boast in our weakness because that is where His strength is revealed (2 Cor. 12:9a).

For me personally, it’s okay that I’m an accountant who’s bad at mental math. It’s okay that social interactions create anxiety and exhaustion. Sleepless nights should be a reminder that I’m not the one in control—God is (though that still doesn’t help me to sleep better). I’ve had a lot of reminders of my weakness lately and I, like many of us, need to remember God’s strength and sufficiency.

“Now may our Lord Jesus Christ Himself, and God our Father, who loved us and gave us eternal comfort and good hope through grace, comfort your hearts and establish them in every good work and word” (2 Thess. 2:16-17).

© 2022 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture are ESV and all images are copyright free from pixabay.com. The opinions stated do not necessarily reflect the views of my church or employer.

Fully Present

In one of his letters from prison (1944), Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote to his friend Eberhard Bethge:

“You must be especially homesick… But isn’t it an essential part of human maturity, as opposed to immaturity, that your center of gravity is always wherever you happen to be at the moment, and that even longing for the fulfillment of your wishes can’t pull you off balance, away from being your complete self, wherever you are? In youth we are never entirely present, no matter where; that’s part of the essential nature of youth; otherwise they would be dullards. A [mature] man is always a whole person and wholly present, holding back nothing. He may have his longings but somehow masters them and keeps them out of sight, and the more he must overcome in order to live fully in the present, the more he will keep his own counsel and have, fundamentally, the trust of the people around him, especially younger ones who are still on the road that he has already traveled. Wishes, when we cling to them too tightly, can easily rob us of what we ought to be and can be.”

Reading that, my first thought was that he obviously didn’t live in the 21st century. It seems like everything in our world today works against us being fully present in any moment or place. Social media, and media in general, pull our attention in a million different directions. Just having a smartphone in hand distracts us from conversation. Each ding of a text or email coming in pulls your mind away from the person sitting in front of you or the task that you’re supposed to be completing. In one of the TGC Social Sanity Book Club videos, the comment was made that scrolling through Facebook you’re likely to move from one person’s emergency prayer request to another person’s praise for a new job, and you don’t have the time or mental energy to assimilate all the varying thoughts and emotions related to any of it.

We can’t live well in such a disintegrating environment. In Bonhoeffer’s words, we are no longer whole or mature people, but immature and fragmented. We no longer master our longings, but we are mastered by the programming of technology’s algorithms. Our culture is discipling us and our children. Are we alert to how we are being indoctrinated?

As much as we like the convenience and entertainment of our various devices, they are often detrimental to our real presence to the people right around us. We hit the Send button rather than talking to someone face to face. We feign omnipresence by trying to respond to friends around the world while only half-listening to the person in the same room.

I admit I love certain features of my phone. I love having quick access to books, Bible translations, and email or texts without waiting for my laptop to boot. But I have mixed feelings about the games and social media apps that entice me to waste time on things that have little or no value. And even email and text messaging are frustrating when I find that other people don’t prioritize them in the same way I do—some people demand an immediate answer that I’m not prepared to give, while others don’t respond to my questions for days at a time. It’s hard not to judge people badly for their different expectations and habits.

There are days when I’d love to go back in time to before the invention of the telephone, automobile, and railroad—when most people stayed in the same community for their whole lives and communication either happened in person or took several weeks for letters to travel. As I noted in a previous post, the “ministry of presence” has declined in frequency, but not in value. Whether we know it or not, we need one another in a real and physical way. Most of the “one anothers” can’t be done from a distance, and we need to stop imagining that they can. Let’s slow things down and be fully present with the people closest to us.

“‘All things are lawful,’ but not all things are helpful. ‘All things are lawful,’ but not all things build up. Let no one seek his own good, but the good of his neighbor” (1 Cor. 10:23-24).

© 2022 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture are ESV and all images are copyright free from pixabay.com. The opinions stated do not necessarily reflect the views of my church or employer.