“For in Christ, neither our most conscientious religion nor disregard of religion amounts to anything. What matters is something far more interior: faith expressed in love. ” (Galatians 5:6, The Message)
It is far easier to be religious than to love. Religion gives the adherent some sense of accomplishment: the kind of satisfaction that causes one to look in the mirror and smile. The exercise of love may leave the lover exhausted, perhaps even wounded. In the beginning, love was unencumbered. Love demanded nothing, and gave everything. Love was received with joy and returned without reservation. Love was the only foundation for relationships and the rule for human interaction.

No more. Love is confused by our attempts to submit it to our will. Humans hijacked love and held it hostage. Love was tortured to the point of being unrecognizable and then unceremoniously stuffed in a shallow grave.

Love wasn’t conquered, it didn’t die. Prevailing science seems increasingly determined to make every human experience a mere function of biochemical interactions and yet the existence of this inexplicable urge to do acts contrary to self-preservation or interests still remains.

And because love remains and adds to the testimony of its strength by its indomitable force, we hope and are—hopefully—in love.

In every generation there are always a few who occupy the periphery of civilization.  These few, for many different reasons, do not subscribe to the restrictions culture attempts to place upon them.  In the ebb and flow of time, the few become many and wickedness of all sort abounds.

Yes, the hearts of some grow so cold that to approach a 93 year old woman and murder her in the light of day is a thing to be done.  Yes, even the hearts of the young will beat a peer to death.  Many of us grieve over the loss of our 4,351 service personnel overseas, but do we equally grieve for the 14,693 who died in one year in the United States as the result of murder?    

We live in an age of unrestrained behavior.  The religious fervor of the 1950s ushered in the hedonism of the 1960s, the ”me” ideal of the 1970s, the arrogance of the 1980s, and the moral confusion of the 1990s. Our culture continues to destroy itself month by bloody month. 

In every form of entertainment we fixate ourselves on primordial urges: sex and violence.  Our education system is so unsure as to even a definition of a truly educated person that it regularly presents persons with degrees, some advanced, based not on true erudition but on novelty or popularity or sheer perseverance. Our national religion is far more concerned with personal comforts and successes than it is with unabashed, unreserved devotion to God, regardless of the cost.  The standard of right and wrong is not measured against an unchanging moral code given by revelation from a God or the gods, but rather by the whim of the moment or, if pressed, the arbitrations of a anchorless legal system.

Many will agree that we have cultural problems, but the only currently accepted solution seems to be “more.”  The only “more” that will help is “more of Jesus” and less of me.  Call me a simpleton, ignoramus, ignorant zealot if you wish.  From my one-legged stool in the corner, I simply respond, “We have more of everything other than Jesus than we have ever had…ever…and our abundance produces unhealthy bodies, unstable minds, unfaithful partners, unreliable governance, unsafe neighborhoods and unruly people. ’More’ is an unsatiable animal that will allow us feed it until it devours us.  Then it will lick its lips and proclaim it’s hungry.  The only solution to the quandry of humanity is unfettered pursuit of God’s solution: Jesus.”

… We know our joy in heaven will be greater if the people we treat with mercy are won over to the surpassing worth of Christ and join us in praising Him.

But how will we ever point them to Christ’s infinite worth if we are not driven, in all we do, by the longing to have more of Him? It would only be unloving if we pursued our joy at the expense of others. But if our very pursuit includes the pursuit of their joy, how is that selfish? How am I the less loving to you if my longing for God moves me to give away my earthly possessions so that my joy in Him can be forever doubled in your partnership of praise?—John Piper in Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist.

Now a word was brought to me stealthily; my ear received the whisper of it.
Amid thoughts from visions of the night,
when deep sleep falls on men,
dread came upon me, and trembling,
which made all my bones shake.
A spirit glided past my face; the hair of my flesh stood up.
It stood still,
but I could not discern its appearance.
A form was before my eyes;
there was silence, then I heard a voice:
‘Can mortal man be in the right before God?
Can a man be pure before his Maker?
Even in his servants he puts no trust, and his angels he charges with error;
how much more those who dwell in houses of clay,
whose foundation is in the dust,
who are crushed like the moth.
Between morning and evening they are beaten to pieces;
they perish forever without anyone regarding it.
Is not their tent-cord plucked up within them,
do they not die,
and that without wisdom?’
“Call now; is there anyone who will answer you? To which of the holy ones will you turn?” (Job 4:12-5:1, ESV)

 
The writer identifies the speaking spirit only by the physical response the spirit elicits and the words the spirit speaks. The one who accused Job to God (1.9-11) now accuses God to Job. The mouthpiece is Job’s companion, Eliphaz. Eliphaz doesn’t think he is doing Satan’s work. He begins his speech with God (4.6); he ends his speech with God (5.8ff). In the middle, however, are lies from the evil one.

This passage frightens me more than any other passage of Scripture outside of Matthew 25. So clever is the adversary, so effective his simple deceits that he can wedge into the very core of truth his own wicked lies. He causes the unwise to regurgitate the hellish mixture without knowledge of what they have done.
I wish to keep my mouth shut, my lips firmly pressed together lest I also spew the cocktail of hell. This is not an option. My only hope, therefore, is to fill the well of my soul with truth and to keep it full.

The heart of the righteous ponders how to answer, but the mouth of the wicked pours out evil things. (Proverbs 15:28, ESV)

So be it Lord.

Lower your cholesterol. Lose some weight. Go to the parent-teacher meetings. Show up to work on time. Get the job done right. Study hard and get good grades. Practice your instrument. Avoid germs. Coach the ball team. Fix supper for the family. Look good. Be nice.

Life is full of expectations; demands seem to stack themselves to the sky. For the most part we acquiesce to whatever we think is necessary for our lives to continue plodding along. We hope that our obedience to the million different “pulls” on our time and energy and resources will somehow result in our happiness or, at very least, convenience.

Then there is God. We tend to approach our relationship with him as an additional set of responsibilities. We behave as if the requirements of our world must first be satisfied then we have to find a way to please God with what we have left. The result is either pervasive frustration or a spirituality that is so lean that it barely survives at all. Either way we come to God complaining what he commands is just too much to ask.

It is.

“If anyone comes to Me, and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be My disciple. Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after Me cannot be My disciple…So then, none of you can be My disciple who does not give up all his own possessions.” (Luke 14:26-27, 33, NASB95)

My friends at Main Street will be talking about this idea this week. It will be interesting to hear what is decided about the call of Christ.

Last night I had the joy of being with family for a concert at Main Street. One of the artists who shared their talent from God was Todd Agnew. He not only played and sang, but also shared from God’s Word. The experience still bears weight the next day. My first thoughts this morning were directly related to last night. For instance Todd sang a medley of new and “old” lyrics. One portion was from Fanny Crosby’s hymn, “Blessed Assurance.”

Perfect submission, all is at rest, I in my Savior am happy and blest: Watching and waiting, looking above, Filled with His goodness, lost in His love. This is my story, this is my song…

Perfect submission. Really? No. Like so many other “hymnotic” rhymes which have escaped my lips, this “story” is at best only partially true. I long for it to be so, to be fully, completely, unreservedly true. Simply considering the idea, to be perfect—fully mature—in my submission to the Lord and Savior of my soul, causes the Spirit within to groan with yearning.

But He gives a greater grace. Therefore it says, “God is opposed to the proud, but gives grace to the humble.” Submit therefore to God… (James 4:6-7, NASB95)

What truth there is in my life is wrapped around submission to Jesus who rescued me from the wretched condition I was once in as lord of my own life. This is my story, will I stick to it?

It is never a small thing to have to eat words; I have had to do so far too many times in my life.  For me, there will be even more words to eat in the future.  I do have a choice of which words to eat, though.  I may have to chew and swallow the bitter weeds of nouns and verbs thoughtlessly harvested from my own pitiable mental garden.  I know what these words taste like and they are awful.  Every time I see a plate full of my words demanding consumption, I wonder at myself.  Is is not possible for a Holy Spirit indwelled man to just keep his mouth shut?  The answer is “Yes, it is possible.”  Quiet is a discipline I am still learning.  In the meantime I find that exchanging my “weeds” for God’s sweetness is the best alternative.

“Your words were found, and I ate them, and your words became to me a joy and the delight of my heart, for I am called by your name, O Lord, God of hosts.” (Jeremiah 15:16, ESV)

When Jeremiah spoke on God’s behalf, he suffered.  Sometimes Jeremiah suffered a lot.  Yet, for Jeremiah, the presence of God’s word in his heart and the privilege of sharing the nouns and the verbs of God were joy.

It is the deep desire of my heart to be like Jeremiah.  If I suffer over words, I want the suffering to be for the cause of Christ and the glory of the I AM, the God of the heaven’s armies.

Oh for the wicked and the righteous to agree regarding me, “He is called by the name of His God; by the words of his lips this is known.”