When You Feel Abandoned by God

It might seem strange counsel but I believe people that are often discouraged and prone to negative thinking need to hear things like this:

God has not abandoned any of us any more than he abandoned Job. He never abandons anyone on whom he has set his love; nor does Christ, the good shepherd, ever lose track of his sheep. It is as false as it is irreverent to accuse God of forgetting, or overlooking, or losing interest in, the state and needs of his own people. If you have been resigning yourself to the thought that God has left you high and dry, seek grace to be ashamed of yourself. Such unbelieving pessimism deeply dishonors our great God and Savior. (J.I. Packer, Knowing God, 88-89)

Doesn’t it feel like we’ve been abandoned at times, though? Doesn’t it feel as if we can pray Psalm 22: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me”?

Packer himself likely had times of feeling “left high and dry”. As he recalls in his latest work, Weakness is the Way, Packer was a “solitary and rather somber child”. He “had to wear at school, for ten years, a black aluminum patch covering a hole in [his] head…and hence was unable to play outdoor games.” This, Packer says, left him “feeling out of most of what mattered”. He likely felt Psalm 22;

Forsaken.

Groaning.

Lonely.

Silent.

Scorned.

Mocked.

Weak…

Now to really feel Psalm 22 we have to feel it in its entirety. And that is what the above Packer quote is referencing. It’s right—and in fact quite like Christ—to express Psalm 22:1. But if you leave it there—without embracing the redemption of Psalm 22—you are accusing God of being less than He is.

Though we are the afflicted and we feel that in our bones, at the same time faith beckons us to cry out, “The afflicted shall eat and be satisfied.” Yes, this is true. I know it to be true because Jesus has fulfilled Psalm 22.

And because of this I know that the Great Shepherd will never abandon his sheep…including me. Even if I have engaged in the “unbelieving pessimism” that “deeply dishonors our great God and Savior”.

Jesus is just that great.

A Photo That Changed My Life

It was an innocent enough picture, but it really shook me up.

There I was, iPad in hand, next to my then three year old son who was focused on playing with an iPod. Both of us with heads down; disengaged from each other and everyone else.

As I saw that photo I was crushed. “Dear God, no,” I prayed. I refuse to be a disengaged husband, father, friend, and disciple.

Once I saw that photo I vowed to change. No more will I be with people and have my nose in an electronic device—unless it’s for the sake of conversation or the meeting itself.

I fail at this at times. And sometimes it hits me how stupid it is that I’m playing some silly game, reading some pointless article, checking some insignificant news, or wasting away while I have life all around me.

This isn’t life no matter what Apple tries to tell you. This is not it, this is not what matters:

I believe that iPad’s and iPod’s can be helpful tools. They can help us actually serve people better. But if, as you see in this video, it directs our attention away from one another, they are deadly.

I often wonder if an iPad would be used by Caravaggio if he painted a modern day Narcissus. There we would be looking into a glass, seeing ourselves and everything that interests us, customized to our own liking.

I don’t want to be Narcissus. I want to look up and engage with people. Problem is, more often than not their heads are buried as well. I pray that we grow tired of looking at ourselves and keeping tabs on our own little worlds. And we actually start to look up again.

Maybe you are reading this right now on an electronic device. I want to encourage you to put down the iPad and vow not to spend your life staring into an electronic looking glass.

Look up.

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I’d also encourage you to read this article by Justin Taylor (and the one he links to in that article).

Hope in the Shadowlands

Discouragers go about among men, and, by their gloomy, pessimistic words—they make life incalculably harder for them. They put out the lamps of cheer and hope which shine in men’s homes. They quench the very stars that burn in the sky above men’s heads. They take the gladness out of hearts. They see only the dark shadows of life, never the sunshine; and they prate wherever they go of gloom and doom. They never bring us a message of cheer. We are never stronger, braver, happier, or truer—for meeting them. –J.R. Miller, 1896

If you want to be Mr. Discourager you have plenty of material to work with.

We do, after all, live in what C.S. Lewis dubbed the Shadowlands. It is here that “the sun is always shining somewhere else. Round a bend in the road. Over the bough of a hill.” When you live in the Shadowlands it doesn’t take a work of grace to point out all of the dark shadows.

Grace sees beyond the shadow. Grace gives birth to hope. And hope sets its eye on the sunshine that is just over the horizon.

I want to be the guy that tells everyone, with a gleam in my eye, “Take heart, the sun is rising!” What value is there in pointing out dark shadows in a land of shadows? Nobody needs that preacher. What men and women need—what my own soul needs—is to be captivated by the hope of another land where the sun is always shining.

Take heart friends…we’ve only seen the cover and the title page. Some day we will “at last [begin] Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read:  which goes on forever:  in which every chapter is better than the one before.”

The Gentleness of Jesus

A couple days ago I shared a question that haunts men, young and old. Today, I want to tell you today about how gentle Jesus has been with me.

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At a very early age I developed an unhealthy view of human sexuality. A whole combination of factors caused me to view sex as something that gave someone value and identity. Combine this with easily accessible pornography and the curiosity of young boys and I didn’t stand a chance.

At the age of 15 I committed what felt like the unpardonable sin. And I did it knowingly and willingly. I was not a victim of my circumstances. I knew that I was doing something wrong—but I didn’t care. What I desired more than the pleasure of God was the pleasure of creation. For me it had less to do with sex and more to do with identity and value. I had finally proven to myself, the world, and all my buddies that I wasn’t a loser.

I continued in this downward spiral for a couple of years. Then I was saved by Jesus.

On Being Chocolate Cake 

A flood of guilt washed over me. I sat through youth group lessons where we passed around a piece of chocolate cake where everybody would take a bite. At the end the leader would point to the disgusting looking, crumbled, and barely recognizable piece of cake and say—“who wants a bite now?” Nobody likes a chocolate cake once it has been passed around. In the same way nobody truly wants someone that has been “passed around”.

I was that chocolate cake.

As the gospel began taking root I learned that God starts over and rebuilds cakes. He makes me desirable again. What a relief. I was being built up into something beautiful; something desirable. I was a new creation. My past no longer had to haunt me. I wasn’t that half-eaten chocolate cake anymore. I was a new piece.

Then I fell again.

What now? Would Jesus rebuild that cake? Could I be made whole again? I struggled with all of these questions. And I struggled with them as I was going to school to prepare for ministry. I had a nagging sense of guilt and shame and worthlessness.

During this time I met my future wife. For the past year God had really been shaping me and changing my views of sexuality. I had grown leaps and bounds. But I still had the nagging guilt and the nagging questions. The goal in our relationship was purity. For the first time in my life I was in a relationship dedicated to godliness and purity in this area. I hoped to marry her.

One day in class all of my fears were confirmed. In an ethics class we were discussing sexuality. In that class the professor made this statement: “If you have engaged in sex outside of marriage you have forfeited every chance for a godly marriage!”

There it was. He had given voice to every fear that I had in my heart. I must have turned white as a ghost sitting in my chair, trying to hold back my sobbing. After what felt like an eternity in the purgatory of that Ethics class, we were finally dismissed. I ran back to my dorm room, feeling dirty, ashamed, and hopeless.

Washed

My only refuge felt like taking a shower. And there in the depths of that pain, Jesus welcomed me. The Spirit brought to my mind verses that I had memorized. “There is therefore now no condemnation for those that are in Christ Jesus…” “If any man is in Christ he is a new creation, behold the old has gone the new has come”… “If we confess our sins He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness…”

I hadn’t forfeited any chance for a godly marriage. This was one of the most painful days of my life, but it was necessary. This was the day that I began actually believing that I was accepted. Had that professor not voiced that hellish view I doubt I would have been brave enough to confront those feelings below.

For the next several months I grew in understanding who I really am in Christ Jesus. The past seemed to lose its grip on me. During this time I married the girl that I supposedly had forfeited. In my case, true love didn’t wait—I blew it time and time again—but the Lord still provided for me the helpmate that he had created for me years before.

I’d be lying if I said that things from the past didn’t still occasionally haunt me, and those feelings of guilt and shame creep up from time to time. Like when I felt certain that the Lord would have my son be born with some sort of disease, just to teach me a lesson that sin has consequences. Jesus rescued me from those dumb thoughts as well.

It took years (maybe I should say it is taking years) for me to really feel and believe that I am deeply accepted and loved by Jesus. But I am and that truth is pretty firmly established in my heart.

End of story…right?

If you have stuck around—and I hope you have—this is actually where I show the gentleness of Jesus. It took about ten years for the Lord to uproot those feelings of guilt and shame from my past sin.

He began His gospel work by firmly planting my identity in Himself. By helping me see that I am forgiven…no matter what. That I am accepted by Him…no matter what. It took times of pain for him to accomplish this, but He has done it well. At times I’ve been brought to what felt like the pit only to be met with His loving acceptance.

Once he firmly established in my heart His love for me, THEN he began some deep gospel work. For almost ten years he didn’t really confront the idolatry in my heart. He very gently assured me of His love and care…

And then he started ripping me to shreds.

He started killing me. Rocking my worldview. Exposing my faulty identity. Taking it all away until I had nothing left. I had developed a view that I was sexually pure because I didn’t do the bad stuff. Through the Lord’s help I had conquered sexual immorality, pornography, and all of that. That is to be celebrated, but not rested upon. He kicked down this self-righteousness as well.

Purity isn’t simply not doing the bad stuff—it’s so much more. And here I began seeing that for ten years the Lord convinced me that He wants that tattered and broken and detestable chocolate cake. Once I became convinced of this the Lord gently began his work of throwing away that old cake and rebuilding something whole and new in its place.

The throwing away hurts. So does the rebuilding. But He has done it and is doing it. With the delicacy of a surgeon, the love of a Father, the gentleness of a Mother, the tenderness of a doting Husband, and the power of a resurrected Messiah, the Lord is making me whole.

What Can We Learn From Voltaire?

Voltaire isn’t an evil robot from an 80’s cartoon, nor is he the bad guy from Harry Potter. Voltaire was an atheist that hated God and the Bible. Near the end of his life he claimed that within 100 hundred years Christianity would be stamped out and known only as a relic of history. Voltaire died in 1778. In God’s irony, within 25 years of Voltaire’s death his mansion housed the Geneva Bible Society. His former residence is now used to churn out Bibles.

Isn’t God amazing? Doesn’t this show us that God is sovereign and that His word will last for ever?

Yes to the first, no to the second. It doesn’t show us anything about God because the story isn’t true. First, Voltaire was a deist not an atheist. Second, there is no record of his having predicted that Christianity would be stamped out within 100 years. Now don’t misunderstand me—Voltaire was no follower of Jesus. Such a statement would not be surprising. But there is no record of his having said it.

Furthermore, it is not true that any of his houses were ever used for a Bible society. It’s a great sermon illustration. It leaves people in awe at the power of God. But it’s simply not historically accurate.

What is true is that the Hotel Gibbon which Voltaire often frequented became a depository of the Bible Society* in 1849. But that is it. Not quite as good of a sermon illustration. And so, like any good fishing story, the catch has gotten a little bigger over the years.

We ought to learn a couple lessons from this false story of Voltaire:

1. Check your facts and stories. What is intended to be a “point for Jesus” ends up being a point for unbelievers. Christians look like blind people groping for anything to believe in. It’s okay that we look like idiots—after all the gospel is offensive and seen as foolish to an unbelieving mind. But we shouldn’t look like idiots because didn’t fact check.
2. Let the Word of God be the anchor and the stories be the servants—not the other way around. The fact that this story is not true should not do anything to your faith other than to make you say, “ah man, that would have been a great sermon illustration”. The truth of God’s word is unchanging. If we find out these stories are untrue we have only lost a servant to our gospel proclamation—not it’s foundation.
3. We will have an eternity filled with TRUE stories like this. God is in the process of rooting out of his kingdom all sin and unbelief and replacing it with passionate worshippers. Therefore, there will be in heaven a million true stories of light overcoming darkness. I can’t wait!

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*Information take from here.

An Unhealthy Focus in Much Christian Literature

“Have you stopped beating your wife?”

That question is the classic example of a loaded question. It is already assumed in the question that the respondent at some point in the past is guilty of having beaten his wife. The question itself begs for a “yes” or “no” answer. Either make the respondent guilty.

Many of the questions in Christian books, small group studies, and Sunday school material reads like this question. At risk of side-tracking discussion, I will cite one question from Multiply by Francis Chan:

“Take a minute to think about your past experience with studying the Bible. Which of the wrong motivations listed above are you guilty of? Can you think of any others?”

My only option is to admit guilt for one of the three. Could it be that God has rescued me from these? A question a few pages later says, “How do you need to adjust your approach to studying the Bible?” Could it be that I don’t need to adjust my approach? I know that we all probably need to adjust in small ways, but should it be assumed that I have wrong motivations in studying the Bible?

Listen, I am greatly benefiting from Chan’s book. It’s very helpful in many areas. I love the plan and it’s a great resource for doing discipleship. We will probably continue to use this. However, I am concerned about an unhealthy focus that this could instill. And this unhealthy focus seems to be in many books that are meant to help with discipleship.

Most material these days has a general feel that seems to come from the assumption that almost everyone and every church is blowing it in their Christian life. And let’s be honest—we do still have remaining sin and no church or person is perfect. There is plenty areas in which we aren’t matching up to what Christ has called us to.

Yet I wonder if such a focus might train disciples to think more about their failures than the work that Christ has already been wrought within us. I am not advocating erasing all of the questions that point to areas where we need growth. We need these questions. But we need another question added. We need to also ask, “In what way do you see God’s grace evidenced in your life?”

Let’s celebrate redemption at the same time we cry out for further rescue.

Knowing the Creep’s Name…Two Years Later

Our sermon this morning was on Romans 8:12-17. Tonight in our Life Groups we will talk even more about the beauty of adoption. All of this reminded me of something amazing the Lord was doing in my life a couple years ago.

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Driving to class this morning I was rocking out to 100.5 Gen-X (Hopefully, it’s okay that I listen to secular music on my way to seminary).  One of my favorite songs from my teenage years came on, Creep by Radiohead:

When you were here before
Couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry

You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so very special

Chorus:

But I 'm a creep
I 'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here

I don't care if it hurts
I want to have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul

I want you to notice
When I'm not around
You're so very special
I wish I was special

CHORUS

She's running out again
She's running out
She run, run, run run
Run

Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You're so very special
I wish I was special

CHORUS

In the original version of this song the word “very” is replaced by the F-bomb.  This is an angry song about a young man that has a crush on a girl but he really does not feel like he is good enough for her.  At the end of the day he wishes that he was special like her.  “I want you to notice when I’m not around” is perhaps the most telling lyric.  This young man feels insignificant and unnoticed.  He would sacrifice his own identity just to be someone that would be liked. 

This song is the cry of my generation.  At least it is the cry of my own heart.  Growing up I always felt this way.  Maybe it was the necessary result of being a short kid with big ears and glasses.  Maybe it has deeper familial issues at the core.  I feel this song.  Check that, I felt this song. 

Actually my wife and I had a conversation about this last night.  Since my identity is being rocked to the core right now—rewind about 6 months and you will see why—we have these conversations often. 

For most of my life I have had a deep desire to be noticed.  Not necessarily in a “look at me, I’m the center of attention” type of way.  More so in a, “Hi, Mike I’m glad that you exist” type of way.  For years I killed parts of me that were “unacceptable”.  I became whatever people wanted me to be.  “Whatever makes you happy, whatever you want”.

Thankfully, God is healing me.  Last night I wept after reflecting upon a different song.  It’s a song that has grabbed my attention before.  But last night I realized why it ministers to me so much:

I hope that this ministers to you.  I pray that the way the Lord is comforting me will be a comfort to you.  It’s my prayer that as the Lord continues to heal my brokenness that he may also use it. 

If you read through this and cannot relate then that’s awesome.  Please allow me to give you a ministry tip.  You don’t heal a “creep” by convincing him you think he’s special.  You heal a “creep” by letting him know that the One who lifts up the sun, hangs the stars, and holds the universe lovingly knows the number of his hairs.  That heals brokenness. 

Originally posted here.

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Two years later I’m continuing to uncover even more about myself. And I’m finding that in every spot where there is brokenness the Lord is pushing through with His holiness and redemption.

All of this because I’m his adopted son. He won’t leave me reflecting my fallen identity. He won’t stop until I’m truly living in my new name.

Truths in the Midst of Brokenness

When I go through a period where my brokenness seems to shine brighter than my redemption, I try to remember these truths*:

• He knows what I need (Matthew 6:8)…even when I haven’t a clue.
• It is His character to generously give (James 1:5)…even when I’m most undeserving.
• He didn’t spare His Son for me (Romans 8:32)…even though I didn’t ask Him to, or desire for Him to do this.
• He has provided the Spirit to intercede on my behalf when I don’t have the words to pray (Romans 8:26)…and even when my emotions don’t know how to feel.
• He promises we will lack no good thing (Psalm 34:9-10)…even though I cry out that I’m empty.
• He knows my frame, he remembers that I’m dust (Psalm 103:14)…in the times when I feel lower than dirt or more confident than I ought.
• He doesn’t break bruised reeds, or quench smoldering wicks (Matthew 12:20)…even if that is exactly what I would do.
• No one can snatch me out of His hand (John 10:28-29)…even if I try to leap out of His grasp.
• He is not ashamed to call me brother, or son (Hebrews 2:11, Romans 8:15) …even when I feel bastardly
• He has brought me near by His blood and placed me into His family, His body, His church (Ephesians 2:11-22)…even when I’m the crazy uncle.

These are but a few of the truths that I cling to. It’s a great reminder that it little matters what I write on the other side of those periods. It is as Bunyan said, “I saw that it is not my good frame of heart that made my righteousness better, nor yet my bad frame that made my righteousness worse, for my righteousness IS Christ.”

I’m glad to have an anchor.

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*These are worded in an individualistic way because I have found that to be most helpful. If I say “us, you, them” then I don’t personalize them and I assume that the promises are for someone else.

Life After the Fires of Affliction

Behold, I have refined you, but not as silver; I have tried you in the furnace of affliction. –Isaiah 48:10

It was a terrific dog. For three whole weeks I had spent my time in 8th grade Art class crafting this marvelous ceramic dog. Now only one step stood between Fido and a sweet blue ribbon. That final step…cue the drums and dark music…was the furnace.

Fido didn’t make it. He kind of made it. But not really. He lost a leg, a tail, and his ears folded over. Truth be told he went into the furnace as a beautiful dog and came out the other end as a three-legged pig.

I had only one option. Fido’s dog days had to be over. He’d now have to become Wilbur the pig. So I put on him a curly tail, a new leg, and tweaked his face a little. One quick trip into the kiln and out came Wilbur the pig that used to be a dog.

The moral of the story: The furnace of affliction changes us.

As believers the Lord puts us into the furnace of affliction for our good and His glory. It is in the furnace of suffering that he chisels away our impurities. It is here that we become more moldable and easier to be used for His glory. We often go into the furnace as an arrogant dog, sure to win first prize. We come through the other end a maimed pig--but a maimed pig that is more fit to be used for God’s glory and more receptive to enjoying God.

Yet I find in my heart a terrible tendency on the other side of the kiln. After I’ve been through the season of affliction I expect things to soon return to normalcy. “Normalcy” meaning life before the kiln. I long for things to go back to how they were before the furnace.

But it can’t. Life can’t go back to how it was because I am no longer who I was when entering the furnace. And I’m not meant to be. Nor should I want to be. The furnace is meant to strip away the old and shape us into who God wants us to be.

When I come out the other end of the furnace I’m not charged with getting my life back to how it was before the season of affliction. I am charged with learning to live and walk and breathe in the new. Trying to live like Fido doesn’t work when God decided Wilbur the pig was a better option.

Walk in the new.

When Sanctification is Like a Blind Man Describing Colors

This is a blind dude trying to describe color:

Do you ever feel this way about trying to put on the righteousness of Christ? I know I do.

The “taking off” stuff seems easier to me. “Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths”…okay I know what that looks like. I’ve done “corrupting talk”. I have a list that describes corrupting talk. I know what it looks like to stop it.

“…but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear”. This is more difficult. How do I know what “building up” looks like if I came from a culture of death that only tears down?

There are some deep-seated sins that seem to be attached to my identity. Some things seem really difficult to tear down. But there are some things that seem impossible to build up, because its like a blind guy trying to describe color. I have a big empty spot in my heart where sin is being ripped out but righteousness has not yet been erected in its place.

Yet I hope…

I have hope for this emptiness because I serve a God who calls light out of darkness. I serve a God who “calls into existence the things that do not exist”. I know that God is teaching me righteousness in places that I’ve never lived it before. I know that God is not only healing my blindness but he is also teaching me how to see.

And he mostly does this through his church. God has placed people in my life to help me live in color.

If you are like me—at times feeling so damaged and empty that positive redemption seems impossible—know that there is hope. God creates beauty out of ashes and he calls into existence that which was nothing. You have hope. Surround yourself with people that live in color.

If you live in color it is a necessity that you seek out those that are learning to see. We need your eyes.

Ducks Out of Water

Ducks are made for water, right?

What happens, though, when they are held captive for their entire lives and forced to live in conditions contrary to that which they were created for? 

You get this…

(HT: 22 Words)

Ducks afraid of water.

That is an apt picture of our need for redemption.  We are like ducks that are repulsed by the water that we were created to enjoy.  We prefer the familiarity of dry ground.  We run away from what would be our joy.

Then the Rescuer comes. 

He’s not content with us being land-dwellers.  He wants us to swim.  That is what we were created for.  Out of his love he does the painful, yet necessary thing, and throws us in the water.  At first we are angry.  We are repulsed.  We wonder why our Rescuer is causing us such pain and discomfort.

Then.

Suddenly, we begin to experience the joy of water.  We realize that this is what we were created for.  We start to enjoy the water and everything is changed.  Now, the water which once repulsed us becomes the source of our greatest joy. 

This is what redemption looks like.  This is the affliction of the gospel. 

The Quiddity of Redemption

    You shall no more be termed Forsaken,
        and your land shall no more be termed Desolate,
    but you shall be called My Delight Is in Her,
        and your land Married;
    for the LORD delights in you,
        and your land shall be married.
    For as a young man marries a young woman,
        so shall your sons marry you,
    and as the bridegroom rejoices over the bride,
        so shall your God rejoice over you.
(Isaiah 62:4-5 ESV)

This passage of Scripture is rocking me today.  I’ve been camping out on it for near an hour now and chewing on it’s splendor.  I’m thinking about the exuberant joy that I had on my wedding day.  I know what it is to rejoice over a bride.  (I still do 8 years later)

What made me so joyous on that day?  Was it the culmination of a 20 year search for deep and abiding love?  Yeah, that probably had something to do with it.  Perhaps it was just the sheer shock of how much I was marrying up.  The realization that I had actually tricked my beautiful bride into marrying me.  Too late to back out now, honey.  It was more so just the sheer joy of the thing itself.  The fact that I now had permission to fully and without reserve to give myself completely to her and to just flat out enjoy her. 

What then about the Lord’s “rejoicing over us”?  Is it as if He’s rejoicing in a job well done?  That finally we’ve been made righteous, our sin and unbelief has been obliterated by the cross work of Jesus. Is it a rejoicing in the work of the Son?  Those are certainly included in this rejoicing. 

But I think the rejoicing of Isaiah 62 is more than just the Lord popping his knuckles and standing in awe of a job well done.  Though that is certainly true.  I think this joy here is what C.S. Lewis referred to as quiddity.  My favorite chapter of Jared Wilson’s new book is Chapter 4 which is entitled, At Play in the Fields of the Lord. Jared reflects on quiddity and how C.S. Lewis spoke of how a friend had cultivated it in him:

“…a serious, yet gleeful, determination to rub one’s nose in the very quiddity of each thing, to rejoice in its being (so magnificently) what it was.”  John Piper echoes this sentiment of quiddity, commenting on this kind of awareness: ‘To wake up in the morning and be aware of the firmness of the mattress, the warmth of the sun’s rays, the sound of the clock ticking, the sheer being of things…’  (Gospel Deeps, 90)

Wilson goes on to show how the gospel alone “frees us to enjoy things as they truly now are and as they someday will be”.  That is what is so shocking to me about Isaiah 62:5.  If anyone is able to enjoy the quiddity of a thing it’s the Lord Himself—the very author of Lewis and his quiddity.  This phrase “so shall your God rejoice over you” is simply an enjoyment of the thing itself.  He’s delighting in Himself as he delights Himself in us.

It’s worthy of great delight and worship to think of the Lord rejoicing over His workmanship in my redemption.  It’s quite another to think that He is rejoicing in heaven over the very thing itself.  Yet this is what Christ has secured through His mighty cross work.  We have become “a crown of beauty in the hand of the LORD”. 

It’s one thing to say that the Lord forgives me.  That’s enough to dance for eternity.  To know of His protection, His healing, His provision, and His rescue is cause for continual praise.  To be reconciled to Him and also to others is a deep well of delight.  To be transformed so that I’m holy, so that I can enjoy what I ought to enjoy, and to be found in Him without a righteousness of my own, these are part of the pleasures evermore.  But for the Lord to say, “I delight in you”.  That causes my jaw to drop to the floor. 

It’s one thing to be forgiven quite another to be delighted in.  Yet this is how deep the Lord’s redemption flows. 

Fear Without a Voice

A song I am really loving right now is “Stay” by Jimmy Needham.  My favorite lyric is “to the place where my fears have no voice at all”.  I think we all long for that day when our often shouting fears, doubts, etc. are stricken with perpetual laryngitis and the only voice we hear is the whisper of the Lord. 
Beautiful song, take a listen:



You can buy Needham's new album for only $9.99 or "Stay" for only .99

Does Jesus Cry Over Spilled Milk?

He wept over distresses which He intended to relieve.  -John Newton

On hot evenings little boys really need a cold drink.  After an intense day of playing I took my son out for a late night Chicken McNugget Happy Meal with a nice cold chocolate milk.  Poor little guy was so parched that on this occasion he was more passionate about the milk than his super cool toy. 

He got two sips. 

As we began our journey back home I heard a distraught little boy in the back seat.  He had set his milk next to his leg and began reaching into his jolly bag of goodness to retrieve a Nugget (or more likely to marvel at his new toy).  Something happened in the transition and the milk found itself on the floor.  Yes, my son was crying over spilt milk. 

I felt for the little guy but at the same time I’m old enough to remember the adage of “don’t cry over spilled milk”.  So I repeated a sentence that I have said numerous times, “Come on buddy, don’t cry—daddy is going to fix it.” 

I knew I could get some milk at home.  Or if things get to desperate we could easily go back to McDonalds since we only live a couple minutes away.  Super-Dad can fix this one.  But apparently not fast enough.  Saying “wait for my rescue” just doesn’t seem to cut it as a broken-hearted little boy stares at a puddle of milk that should be in his tummy instead of staining the floor of mommy and daddy’s van. 

I’m beginning to understand why those words don’t always cut it.  Sometimes—even if its really silly—our pain is so intense that all we can really do is cry until mourning has its healing effect.  Sometimes tears heal what words can’t. 

As the above words from John Newton evince Jesus modeled this perfectly.  Just as I intended to clean up the milk and replace it with new so also Jesus intends to wipe away every tear from our eye and conquer or brokenness with his redemption.  Yet he even though he knows good and well that these tears are only temporary Jesus joins in them anyway.  And they aren’t fake these tears of Jesus.  They are motivated by really feeling the sorrow of another. 

Yes, Jesus will preach redemption and exhort us to hope.  He will tell us “I’m making all things new” and count on us to believe in him.  We aren’t to mourn as those who have no hope and Jesus will at times remind us of this.  Yet I’m convinced that these exhortations are not accompanied with a disinterested half-smile but instead with cheeks soaked in tears that have miraculously entered fully into the experience of humanity. 

So would Jesus cry over spilled milk? 

Though he is in the business of changing our affections and our cares and transforming our worries so that they reflect far greater things than spilled milk, I am of the opinion that when my little boy agonizes over spilled milk that Jesus enters into his pain. 

Some day, Isaiah, we will live in a world where milk will never spill.  Or even if for some reason it did we would probably laugh because we aren’t desperately parched.  Some day we will live in a world where we never hunger or thirst and our every longing is fulfilled in Jesus.  But we don’t live there yet.  In the mean time I want you to know that Jesus weeps with you when you spill your milk.  But don’t forget as we all cry together that redemption is coming! 

From the Pen of Newton: The Oak Tree of Grace

John Newton explains the work of grace in the believers soul as more like a mighty oak tree than Jonah’s gourd which sprang up overnight.  By “work of grace” Newton does not mean only initial conversion but the entire process of redemption:

   The work of grace is not like Jonah's gourd, which sprang up and flourished in a night--and as quickly withered; but rather like the oak, which, from a little acorn and a tender plant, advances with an almost imperceptible growth from year to year, until it becomes a broad-spreading and deep-rooted tree, and then it stands for ages. The Christian oak shall grow and flourish forever.

   When I see any, soon after they appear to be awakened, making a speedy profession of great joy, before they have a due acquaintance with their own hearts--I am in pain for them. I am not sorry to hear them afterwards complain that their joys are gone, and they are almost at their wit's end; for, without some such check, to make them feel their weakness and dependence, I seldom find them to turn out well; either their fervor insensibly abates, until they become quite cold, and sink into the world again--of which I have seen many instances. Or, if they do not give up all--their walk is uneven, and their spirit has not that savor of brokenness and true humility which is a chief ornament of our holy profession. If they do not feel the plague of their hearts at first--they find it out afterwards, and too often manifest it to others.

   Therefore, though I know the Spirit of the Lord is free, and will not be confined to our rules, and there may be excepted cases; yet, in general, I believe the old proverb, "Soft and fair goes far," will hold good in Christian experience. Let us be thankful for the beginnings of grace, and wait upon our Savior patiently for the increase. And as we have chosen him for our physician--let us commit ourselves to his management, and not prescribe to him what he shall prescribe for us. He knows us and he loves us better than we do ourselves, and will do all things well.  (Works of Newton, Volume 1, 642-43)

There is, in my opinion, much to learn from Newton here.  I firmly believe that what Newton describes here became an epidemic in the late 1800’s with the rise of the Pelagian practices of Charles Finney.  Even in our day many church leaders, I believe wholly out of love, desire to quickly alleviate feelings of weakness, dependency, guilt, brokenness, etc.  Out of this good desire gone astray we end up as Newton said, “prescribing to him what he shall prescribe for us”. 

What then should you do?  Should a pastor pick up the practice of the Puritans and allow people to “smart awhile” or should they quickly apply the remedy of grace? 

I’ll attempt an answer to that question tomorrow…

Nip it in the bud!

“Nip it, Nip it in the bud!”

That of course is one of the famous sayings of one Bernard P. Fife.  His philosophy of the law is evidenced in the episode Barney’s Sidecar.  Here Barney is patrolling with his new toy—a motorcycle.  He decides to crack down on the trucker drivers going 5 over the speed limit just to get up a hill.



(The clip to watch starts at about 1:50 and ends at about 2:40)

Barney may be going a little overboard as far as the laws of Mayberry are concerned, but I think he is right on when it comes to sin.  As John Owen once noted:

Sin aims always at the utmost; every time it rises up to tempt or entice, if it has its own way it will go out to the utmost sin in that kind. Every unclean thought or glance would be adultery if it could, every thought of unbelief would be atheism if allowed to develop. Every rise of lust, if it has its way reaches the height of villainy; it is like the grave that is never satisfied. The deceitfulness of sin is seen in that it is modest in its first proposals but when it prevails it hardens mens’ hearts, and brings them to ruin.

We see this pictured in Pharaoh.  As you read through the Exodus narrative each time he desires to keep at least a little influence over the Egyptians.  At one point he says “I’ll let just your men go”.  Then he says, “I’ll let everybody go, but I’m keeping the livestock”.

That won’t do.  God is not satisfied with only a partial redemption.  All that He promised to deliver out of Egyptian slavery will be rescued.  It is the same way with our redemption.  Christ will not be satisfied until His sheep are absolutely rescued—both in number and extent. 

Total Deliverance

But as you know we do not yet live in total deliverance.  Yes, Christ has struck the death blow and has certainly secured our total redemption.  But we are not there yet.  We are positionally rescued out of Egypt but our hearts still have remnants of rebellion and our flesh still carries the stench of Egypt. 

I think if given the option, on their own, the Israelites would have settled for just a little redemption.  They, like us, would have probably been satisfied (at least at first) with the pain of slavery ceasing.  It doesn’t have to be total redemption—just enough to keep me from being totally miserable.  It is true, “we are far too easily pleased”. 

And it is because of this ease of satisfaction that we refuse to “nip it in the bud”.  We flirt with sin and dance with demons of deception.  Rather than running out of Egypt we tend to walk with one foot towards the Promised Land and the other dragging itself out of bondage.  We assume that we can let Pharaoh keep his livestock without that leading to a return to slave labor. 

Just like Pharaoh, Satan wants us to allow him to keep just a little control.  He is satisfied with that, because he knows that even one little seed of doubt can blossom into absolute rebellion, a destruction of humanity, and a defaming of God’s glory.  He’ll take that “little”. 

Thankfully that is not the end of the story.  Even though we are content with just a little redemption, Christ is not.  With the entire force of the Trinity, the Godhead is working for our complete redemption.  Someday Christ will without question triumph and finally once and for all “nip it in the bud”!

It Doesn’t Change the Promise

C.S. Lewis once quipped:

"God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world."  (Problem of Pain, 140)

I agree with Lewis that this is true most of the time.  But then again, there are times when our suffering causes us to be so broken that we cannot even hear (or respond positively) to the voice of God.  Consider Exodus 6.  God gives a long list of what He is about to do in the lives of the Israelites.  He promises all this:

• I will bring you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians
• I will deliver you from slavery to them
• I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and with great acts of judgment
• I will take you to be my people
• I will be your God
• You will know that I am the LORD your God—who has brought you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians
• I will bring you into the land that I swore to give to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.  I will give it to you for a possession

To top it all off he attaches His name--The LORD—to the beginning of this litany and to its end.  That is HUGE.  The very character and viability of the LORD is attached to Him coming through on these promises. 
You would think that such bold promises would “rouse a deaf world” in the midst of their suffering.  But notice what happens:

“…they did not listen to Moses, because of their broken spirit and harsh slavery”  (emphasis mine)

Occasionally our spirit is so broken and our bondage so taxing that we do not respond believingly to the promises of God.  Sometimes our pain is the megaphone and the voice of God is the whisper.

If the Israelite’s are anything like me they wanted to believe everything that Moses was saying, but because they were still living on the slavery side of redemption they could not fathom rescue.  Their spirit was too broken to even have a spark of faith.  Their bondage was too burdensome to dream of a Promised Land.

But this is one reason I really love the LORD.  “He knows our frame, he remembers that we are but dust”.  The Israelites are not simply being stubborn and discontent here, they are broken and God knows that.  And because of this He is going to rescue the Israelites whether they believe Him or not; at least in this instance.

It Doesn’t Change the Promise

A good husband does not respond to his broken-spirited wife only when she musters up enough strength to believe a ridiculously awesome and yet hard to believe promise.  No, a good husband rescues His broken-spirited wife even while her spirit is absolutely crushed; so crushed in fact that she cannot even turn towards her husband.

Her broken spirit does not change the promise of God.  All seven of those promises God fulfilled to the Israelites.  And He has fulfilled them in an even mightier way through our redemption in Jesus.  And He did it even while His bride was constantly vacillating between firm belief, broken-spirited dullness, and even disbelief.

I am glad that God is more dedicated to the glory of His name than to responding to my varying frames.  Perhaps that is why I have always taken such encouragement from this gem by John Bunyan:

“One day as I was passing into the field, this sentence fell upon my soul: ‘Thy righteousness is in heaven.’ And with the eyes of my soul I saw Jesus at the Father’s right hand. ‘There,’ I said, ‘is my righteousness!’ So that wherever I was or whatever I was doing, God could not say to me, ‘Where is your righteousness?’ For it is always right before him.

I saw that it is not my good frame of heart that made my righteousness better, nor yet my bad frame that made my righteousness worse, for my righteousness IS Christ. Now my chains fell off indeed. My temptations fled away, and I lived sweetly at peace with God.

Now I could look from myself to him and could reckon that all my character was like the coins a rich man carries in his pocket when all his gold is safe in a trunk at home. Oh I saw that my gold was indeed in a trunk at home, in Christ my Lord. Now Christ was all: my righteousness, sanctification, redemption.”

The most vital thing in our life today is union with Christ.  If we have Christ then we have everything…yes, even when in a “bad frame”.

Yes, We’re Worse Than Broken; But I Still Use the Term. Response To Randy Newman

It was with great joy that I read and reviewed Randy Newman’s book, Bringing the Gospel Home.  There was one spot however that gave me pause.  In his book Newman argues that, “if a tract or online presentation of the gospel only refers to our sin as ‘brokenness,’ we are misrepresenting the truth.”  Newman then argues that using terms like brokenness makes it sound as if we are only victims when really we are the ones in rebellion and given over to idolatry. 

Late last week Newman expounded upon this point in his article “We’re Worse Than Broken”.  He believes that the word is not helpful for believers or unbelievers.  For the believer, Newman says, “the word doesn’t go deep enough to move us forward in sanctification”.  He points out that God uses words far worse than broken to describe our lost condition. 

This word is also inadequate in sharing the gospel with unbelievers, says Newman.  It is inadequate because it fails “to convey the dire straights that only the gospel overcomes”.  Newman helpfully notes that

…the Bible’s description of sin is far more active than passive, more something we do—willingly, rebelliously, idolatrously, and knowingly—rather than something perpetrated upon us by others against our will, contrary to our nature, or different from our cravings.

To this end Newman believes that we should chose our words more carefully.  Using a term like “brokenness”, in his opinion, leads to a “reduction of the full and multifaceted concept of sin, as it is described in the Scriptures, into a buzzword that feels more at home in our therapeutic culture than in God’s Word”

Response

In one sense I agree with Randy Newman.  We must be very cautious not to diminish the multifaceted concept of sin for the sake of using buzzwords that are acceptable in a therapeutic culture.  He is also correct in noting that brokenness often makes people feel more like victims than active rebels.  So I agree that we should be cautious in using the word brokenness. 

However, I do continue to use the word.  I continue to use the word for two primary reasons.  First, I use it precisely because it actually does help me to explain a robust biblical theology and the multifaceted concept of sin. 

To be broken means in part that something is not functioning properly—it is out of working order.  To say then that people are “broken” means that people are not functioning properly.  In order for something to be “broken” this implies that something was once functioning properly.  This allows us to begin the gospel with God and His creation. 

God lovingly created us in His image to display His glory through our enjoyment of Him.  And because of this great truth we can say that each person has great value, great responsibility, and great accountability to God. 

It is only through the lens of Eden that we can even come close to understanding the depth of our fall.  Zac Eswine helpfully states that, “without placing our sin into the context of our having been created, we discard vital aspects of the beauty of redemption”.  That is one reason that I continue to use words like “brokenness”: to show that we are not functioning the way that God created us.  We are broken people living in a broken world. 

Secondly, I use that word because people feel broken.  Newman admits this much when he says:

Our experience of alienation from God does indeed feel like we’re broken. We’re not living the lives we were created for. We’re not connecting with others with the level of intimacy we were designed for. We’re cut off from the kind of connectedness with God that he intended.

My contention is that we should continue to use a word like broken but define it using a biblical paradigm.  Certainly we should not present a gospel that makes people passive victims.  But we can explain their feelings of brokenness by saying, “yes, you and I are broken—let me explain why I say that…” 

Terms like “brokenness” can be a huge bridge to sharing the gospel with someone.  It can easily help us explain creation, fall, and redemption.  I agree that it is not a synonym to “sinful”.  But it is still a helpful word and does not necessarily mean that one is watering down the gospel. 

Review of Redemption by Mike Wilkerson

When I first learned of my opportunity to review this book for Crossway I was excited.  I had been exposed to Wilkerson through one of my classes in seminary.  My class had an hour long phone conference with him as he shared about what Mars Hill did for soul care in their congregation.  He also mentioned this book as an adaptation of the material they use in their Redemption groups.  I quickly jotted down the title as one to pick up in January.

I expected Redemption to strengthen the way that I do ministry and help me develop a plan for healing the brokenness in our church community.  I did not expect it to confront my idolatry.  But it did. 

One of the things that I often pray is, “Break me where I need broken and heal me where I need healed”.  There are certain books that have a tendency to be used by God to do both.  Wilkerson’s book confronts our idolatry (breaks us) but it also displays the beauty of Christ and provides substantial healing. 

As stated earlier this is an adaptation of what Mars Hill uses for their redemption groups.  Their redemption groups are an interesting concept.  Rather than having specific groups for various addictions they have one specific group.  But what is even more interesting is that they not only combine the various forms of addiction, they also have those that are victims go through the same material in the same group.  This book is essentially what they use. 

How can something possibly tie together victims and addicts?  The thread that holds these two together is the biblical theme of Redemption.  In this book Wilkerson uses the biblical story of the Exodus as a framework for God’s pattern of redemption.  One thing that addicts and victims have in common is a desperate need for redemption (freedom). 

This is why I thought I would use this book to strengthen ministry to broken people.  I know that I am broken but I would not have classified myself as much of a victim or an addict.  But this book is useful for every sinner that needs redemption and healing.  We all carry wounds and we all worship idols.  Wilkerson uses the story of the Exodus to both break and heal sinners in the name of Jesus. 

The book is eight chapters long.  Stories of real people is interwoven with the real biblical story of the Israelite Exodus.  God redeems people today just as He redeemed the Israelites, and he does it through Christ.  Wilkerson shows his firm commitment to the Scriptures and solid biblical scholarship.  But he also shows that he is a physician of the soul as well.  He shows how the gospel heals real life sinners. 

I heartily recommend this book to everyone.  In fact I am trying to figure out ways to use this book in our congregation.  Immediately after reading it I told my wife to put down all my other book suggestions (I have a tendency to suggest way too many books for people to read) and to focus on this one.  In the coming months we are going to slowly go through this book and use the discussion questions at the end of each chapter. 

I would like to see something from Wilkerson and the folks at Mars Hill on the specifics and ministry side to these Redemption groups.  I think it is an awesome idea and I would love to see something that is a little more small-group/curriculum based as well.  But don’t wait for those.  Whoever you are if you have a beating heart this book will greatly benefit you.

You can buy the hardcopy for only 10.87 or you can buy the e-book for 7.99

Depression, Christians, and Medicine Part 6

After a two-week hiatus (having a baby has a tendency to do that) I will attempt to close out this series with this post and then one more tomorrow.  Today I want to offer my position and then tomorrow offer a few practical applications to my position. 

Should depressed Christians take medicine?

Presupposing that we are whole people, that have been wholly effected by the Fall, but will be totally redeemed, through the gospel (with it’s ripple effects)—which is absolutely sufficient, though God still uses means to make the gospel shine, my answer to this question is a jam-packed “maybe”. 
Allow me to fill that “maybe” out a little bit.  First of all, I do not think it is wise to ONLY take medicine.  So, if I were to counsel a believer to take medication I would also encourage them to seek godly counsel on top of it.  But that is nothing unusual.  Everyone needs sharpening by other believers in some way or another. 

Secondly, I do believe that many people are over-medicated and under-discipled.  I think the folks in the biblical counseling movement are partially right in saying that often our psychological troubles are not biological problems they are repentance problems.  But as noted previously that is not the ONLY problem. 

Help from Dr. Eric Johnson

Honestly, I think my professor Dr. Eric Johnson has answered this question in the most helpful way that I have seen.  He sees human beings as being spiritual, ethical, psychosocial, and biological with an “complex interdependence” (368) between them. 

 He draws it out this way:





And this is where I have found him extremely helpful.  From this he provides four simple rules for soul care:

• Rule #1:  Christian soul-care providers are free to work at all levels.
• Rule #2:  Christian soul-care providers should work at the highest levels possible. 
• Rule #3: Christian soul-care providers should work at the lowest level necessary.
• Rule #4: Christian soul-care providers need to transpose lower level activity into the spiritual order. 

Conclusion

In conclusion there are times when people do need to take medicine.  That decision is not one that should be entered into quickly.  Nor should it be seen as a “fix-all”.  We are complex human beings and we should really be ministered to on all levels. 

If you are taking medicine then rejoice in the fact that such advances in medicine were purchased on the Cross of Christ.  This is all part of redemption and there will be some day when we experience full redemption and you will not need to fulfill that prescription. 

Also, know that Christ can transform anything.  Your identity (if you are a believer) is found in Christ not in some sort of "disorder” that someone says that you have.  You are not a depressed Christian.  You are a Christian that happens to struggle with depression this side of total redemption. 

Should depressed Christians take medicine? 

Maybe, but never ONLY medicine. 

Now, bring on the discussion…

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Screen Clippings and quotes from Foundations for Soul Care by Eric L. Johnson.