Have you noticed how some people seem to focus chiefly on what differentiates themselves from others?  “Those fitness freaks…” or “The 1% snobs…” or “The blue-collar, white-collar, no-collar, etc.”  

In some cases these differences can be good things.  They might facilitate a stronger bond with others of similar interests (sewing circles, sport leagues, car clubs, etc.), and in many cases these differences are harmless – welcoming outsiders of similar interest to be a part of our “tribe” rather than to be excluded.

But in other cases these differences are emphasized in order to cause separation, exclusion or even excommunication.  In the most sinister of cases, this can even be applied as a justification for separating people from God.  “God’s grace extends to most people, but not to them.” is the sentiment, whether spoken or simply implied.

Even in the Church, many well-meaning folks have spoken phrases that sound innocent enough on the surface, but which convey a tragic message when followed to their logical conclusions.  You may have heard some of these phrases before:

“Jesus came only to save sinners…”

“Jesus came only for the down and out…”

“God loves you, but everyone else thinks you’re a jerk.”

The astonishing reality is that during Jesus’ earthly ministry, he made time for every people group, some of whom we might expect and others that might come as a surprise.

Many of His teachings and many of His healing miracles were to the Jews, God’s “elect” people, going back to the Abrahamic covenant.  But Jesus also ministered to and taught Samaritans (see John 4), who were considered “impure half breeds” by the Jews, and were the faithful companions to the Jews in a long-standing blood feud.  Jews and Samaritans usually avoided each other because it was the only way they could think of to avoid bloodshed.  They didn’t view each other as neighbors but rather as enemies.  But Jesus ministered to them.  Worse yet, Jesus championed a “good” Samaritan in a parable when responding to a question about how to love our neighbors.

Jesus ministered to Pharisees (see John 3), and to rulers of synagogues (Jairus in Luke 8), and to many other hard working Jews (farmers, shepherds, fisherman and the like).  But Jesus also ministered to politicians (herodians – see Matthew 22), Roman centurions (Matthew 8) and Gentiles (Mark 7:24-30).

Jesus ministered to the masses (Mark 6), to individuals (Luke 8:43-48) and even to demons (Luke 8:26-32).  But Jesus also ministered to the social outcasts on the fringes of society: children (Luke 18:16), beggars (Luke 18:35-43) and rich men (Luke 19:1-10).

Jesus ministered to everyone, but He never forced His grace on anyone.  A rare and astounding gift is the Gospel, but it is a gift that may be received or rejected.  Perhaps we can learn from the example of our Lord, and offer this same grace freely and without qualification.

And all things through wisdom and the discernment of the Holy Spirit, of course.  I’ve heard it well said that, “I’ll minister to anyone, but I choose my influencers very carefully.”  This is an excellent mindset, and I’ll offer a re-phrase to compliment it: “Choose your influencers very carefully, but minister to everyone.”

In Matthew 20:1-16, Jesus presents a parable to help explain the nature of the kingdom of heaven, and indeed the nature of God Himself.  

It is the time of harvest so a landowner rises early in the morning to hire day laborers.  (These would compliment the landowner’s full-time staff, who might otherwise be overwhelmed by the rapid demands of the harvest.)  They agree upon a fair wage – a denarius (average day’s wage) – and the laborers head to the vineyard and start working.  The landowner goes back out about the third hour (roughly 9am) and saw others idle in the market place.  He also hires them for the day, promising to pay them whatever is right.  

It’s possible that these had spent the earlier hours reaping their own harvest on their own, smaller estates before finishing and heading to the market place in search of additional work.  These would have expected to receive less than a full day’s wage on account of the reduced work-day.

The landowner goes back out at the sixth hour (noon), and again at the ninth hour (3pm), and even once more at the eleventh hour (5pm) when there was only about an hour of daylight remaining.  Each time, he makes similar arrangements with the workers, promising to pay them what is right, and each time, the workers would have expected less compensation due to their reduced work day.

So far so good.

But then Jesus goes and messes up the whole parable by throwing in a curve ball.  The landowner has his foreman call in all of the workers and pay them, starting with those who had worked for the least amount of time, and finishing with those who had been working for the full day.  To every worker, the landowner pays a denarius.  And to this, the laborers who had worked the full day grumbled, thinking it unfair that they should receive the same wages as the others who hadn’t worked as long.

But the landowner responds, “Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for a denarius?  Take what is yours and go, but I wish to give to this last man the same as to you.  Is it not lawful for me to do what I wish with what is my own?  Or is your eye envious because I am generous?”  Jesus then finishes this parable by repeating his statement in Matthew 19:30, “Many who are first will be last; and the last, first.”

This parable is a problem for most of us 21st century Americans.  But to our defense, this parable was also a problem for most 1st century Palestinians.  And why is that?  I think it is problematic largely because we read it through stingy, envious eyes.

Jesus intended to show us the radical generosity of the Father and His kingdom, but we (and the original audience) despised it.  Our misguided sense of fairness and equality balk at this despicable generosity.  And yet, this need not be the case.

The first group of laborers, those who worked the full day, were the only group to negotiate and agree upon a fair compensation, and at the end of the day, they received precisely that.  So when it’s all said and done, they had received perfectly fair treatment and compensation.  On any other day and in any other circumstance, they would have been happy and content with the arrangement.

Out of the generous abundance of the landowner’s heart, he decides to also pay a denarius to every other group, so although the compensation is equal, the effective hourly rate is significantly different.  You can imagine the surprise of each group as they received their denarius, “Wow, I only worked 9 hours, but still got a denarius!”  “Wow, I only worked 6 hours, but I still got a denarius!”  And on down the line.  Truly generosity goes above and beyond what is expected.

Many scholars believe that Jesus was referencing the entitlement of the Jews and their disdain for gentiles.  The Jews were the First, at least in their own eyes, and the gentiles were the Last.  They had then assumed that their first-ness then entitled them to something greater than whatever the gentiles might receive, especially those who were only just now converting and choosing to follow God.  And sadly, this is not an unpopular sentiment even today.  Some folks ask silly questions like, “If I can get my ticket heaven on my deathbed, why would I spend my whole life trying to follow God?”  

This proves that we’ve been greatly deceived about the nature of life, sin, and God.  Jesus clearly states that the enemy ONLY comes to kill, steal and destroy, but Christ/God/the kingdom’s goal is that we would experience life to the max.  When our eyes are clear, we see that the real question should be, “If I can spend the rest of my life experiencing the best of the best – life abundant – then why on earth would I settle for wallowing around in a garbage dump all my life, only to emerge on my deathbed, if at all?”

 Borrowing terminology from this parable, we are “laborers” for the kingdom of God.  Do we expect anything different for those who accept Christ on their deathbed than for us who’ve labored longer.  If we think we deserve something more, it’s probably because we’re viewing our walk with God as a lousy job than as a beautiful relationship.  “The world of the generous gets larger and larger; the world of the stingy gets smaller and smaller.” (Prov. 11:24, The Message).

May we be refreshed in the joy of our salvation, and renewed in our heart of hearts to see God’s generosity as beautiful, and not despicable.

One of the most common mistakes I see when it comes to misunderstanding a particular Biblical passage comes down to a misunderstanding of its context.  While there are many categories of context, one that is often forgotten is literary context – that is, understanding the type of literature in question.

The arrangement and ordering of the Bible is not specifically chronological, but is rather categorized by literature types:

• Torah/Law/Pentateuch (Genesis through Deuteronomy)
• History (Joshua through Esther)
• Poetry (Job through Song of Solomon)
• Major/Minor Prophets (Isaiah through Malachi)
• Gospels/Theological Narrative (Matthew through John)
• History (Acts)
• Epistles (Romans through Jude)
• Prophecy (Revelation)

It is important to recognize the type of literature we are reading and to interact with it accordingly.  Philip Yancy shares an excellent personal example in his book The Bible Jesus Read:

Psalms belong as a part of God’s Word, but in the same way Job or Ecclesiastes belongs.  We read the speeches of Job’s friends – accurate records of misguided thinking – in a different way than we read the Sermon on the Mount.  “The psalms do not theologize,” writes Kathleen Norris in The Cloister Walk, “One reason for this is that the psalms are poetry, and poetry’s function is not to explain but to offer images and stories that resonate with our lives.”

Understanding this distinction changed the way I read Psalms.  Formerly, I had approached this book as a graduate student might approach a textbook: I skimmed the poetry in search of correct and important concepts to be noted and neatly classified.  Psalms resists such systematization and will, I think, drive mad anyone who tries to wrest from it a rigid organizational schema.

We could look at additional examples, of course, but the simple concept is that different types of literature are meant to influence us differently.  In the same way, we ought to approach different types of literature with unique and specific goals.  I wouldn’t critique poetry as a historical narrative.  Neither would I expect a theological narrative to read like a prophetic book.  There will be consistent threads in regards to content, of course, but nearly everything else would be different and unique.  For example, I might pick up on something of the nature of the Kingdom of God in the Psalms, and I might find direct teaching about the Kingdom of God in the gospels, and then I might see examples of historical figures living and advancing the Kingdom of God in the historical book of Acts.  In each case the Kingdom of God is the common theme, but gain something unique and different in each case which produces a broader and more full understanding of the one concept than we could get from just a single type of literature.

From time to time I’ll overhear someone talking about how sophisticated we are in the modern era – particularly in comparison with the superstitious simpletons of the past.  Those old cavemen went around worshipping the sun and hitting things with clubs.  And so we can appreciate the first couple of commandments given to Moses and the Israelites in Exodus 20: “You shall have no other gods before Me.  You shall not make for yourself an idol.”  This seems to make sense in view of the polytheistic culture surrounding the Israelites, but it can perhaps feel distant and disconnected from us.

I’ll concede that we are indeed more sophisticated in many ways – in our technologies and medical breakthroughs, for example – but it seems that we have yet to develop sophisticated souls.  The fundamental problems and challenges we face today are the same fundamental problems and challenges our ancient ancestors faced: pride, hedonism, egotism, idolatry, polytheism…

Wait, what?  How did those last two end up in the list?  We don’t worship idols or believe in a pantheon of gods, do we?

As a matter of fact many, if not most, people today are what I would describe as practical polytheists.  Oh sure, we’ve gotten away from giving proper names to our modern idols, but they’re effectively the same gods the Israelites flirted with throughout the Old Testament.

Adrammelech was the Sepharvite god of war and love (see 2 Kings 17:31).  Nebo, after whom was named a mountain and several towns (see 1 Chronicles 5:8), was the god of wisdom, literature and the arts.  Ashtoreth, also referred to as Astarte or Ishtar, was the Sidonian goddess of sex and fertility (see 2 Kings 23:13).  And of course Jesus addressed the worship of Mammon on numerous occasions in the gospels.  Mammon seems to be an Aramaic rendering of the Roman god Pluto, of the Greek god Plutus, and represents greed and dishonest gain.

So maybe you don’t worship Adrammelech, but do you crave violence, war or the power to control?  Do you worship key relationships in your life, making them the chief focus of your attention?

Maybe you don’t worship Nebo, but do you worship knowledge, progress or artistic expression?

Maybe you don’t worship Ashtoreth, but do you worship sex and/or fertility?

And maybe you don’t worship Mammon, but do you crave what others have?  Do you worship the idea of financial abundance, thinking that if you can just “get enough” and “have enough” that life will be all good?

As is often the case, when we “peel back a layer” of Scripture or history, we realize that we’re not so very different from those old superstitious simpletons after all.  And so it is that the guidance and wisdom God gave to them also applies to us, to neglect our idols in favor of God, who is all-in-all, and who is life abundant.  Our fulfillment is not found in obtaining this or that, nor in achieving this or that, but rather in discovering the One who made us, and walking each day, each moment beside Him.  This is how to gain sophistication of the soul.

As we’ve just completed our annual celebration/observance of the events of Holy Week (Palm Sunday, The Last Supper, The Crucifixion and the The Resurrection) I’m struck with how easy it is to simply “go through the motions” of observance, and in so doing to run the risk of missing the plethora of significant revelations and insights into the heart of God, the ministry of Jesus, and the purpose of the Cross and Resurrection.

Take, for instance, the Triumphal Entry of Jesus on Palm Sunday.  Mark 11 chronicles the disciples’ task of locating and requisitioning the donkey (or colt specifically), and then the peaceful procession of the Jews laying out their cloaks and palm branches for Jesus’ entry as they called out “Hosanna in the highest!”

If we skim right over these events, we can miss the depth of meaning and significance, and even find ourselves criticizing the Jews for turning so quickly on Jesus and crucifying Him just a few days later.  Why would they do that?  

But there are other questions worth asking about this text.  Why did Jesus ride in on the foal of a donkey rather than on a horse?  Why didn’t the Romans intervene?  Were the Jews simply praising Jesus, or were they asking for something?  And of course, why did the Jews change their minds and decide to crucify Jesus later that week?

Let’s start with the donkey.

Middle eastern officials often rode donkeys for civil, not military processions.  Notably, and perhaps of most significance to the Jews present was that Solomon himself rode on King David’s donkey as a part of his coronation ceremony in 1 Kings 1.  It’s entirely possible that the crowds were thinking of this as Jesus’ coronation procession, after which He would rise up and declare His kingly right – to declare war on the Romans and take back the Promised Land in military might.

Already this insight serves to answer the second question.  Why didn’t the Romans intervene?  There could be a few answers.  Perhaps the European/Roman culture didn’t utilize donkeys in the same way as the middle eastern cultures did.  Kings were often displayed and paraded on horses, and this would have been immediately recognized as a royal, if not militant claim.  But even if donkeys were used in these same sorts of civil processions, it’s almost certain that the Romans didn’t know the history of Solomon’s coronation, and so they didn’t perceive any threat from this curious display.

But Jesus wasn’t just riding on a donkey, He was riding on a colt, the foal of a donkey.  This was another somewhat common custom when “unspoiled” animals would be set aside for a specific or even “holy” purpose.  And of course the younger animal would also symbolize less aggression – i.e. peace and humility.

This was a fulfillment of the prophecy in Zechariah 9, which goes on to explain/promise the dominion of this savior king to be expansive, and to usher in a reign of unprecedented peace. 

Next let’s look at “hosanna” and “son of David” (which several of the gospel accounts include).

“Hosanna” simply means “O Save.”  The people were looking for a deliverer – a messiah that would save them.  And “Son of David” was a recognition of Jesus’ royal lineage.  The people were primarily quoting from Psalm 118.  Psalms 113-118 compose the “Hallel,” which was sung regularly during the Passover season, so this would’ve been fresh in everyone’s mind.  The Hallel is quoted/sung about the (future) redemption for which the people hoped.  In Psalm 118 in particular (the section where “O Save” shows up), the Psalmist is making the salvation request to the Lord.  And so it is interesting that the crowds were announcing Jesus’ claim to royalty as a son of David while also quoting a Psalm that referred to God.  Perhaps they were beginning to believe that God really had taken on flesh to dwell among them.

“Hosanna in the highest” also conjures a peculiar image – “O save in the highest.”  It could be emphasizing the reference to Lordship as just mentioned above, or perhaps “in the highest” was meant in the sense of “save us utterly and completely from our oppressors.”  But what if the words were right and it was the intention that was wrong?  What if “in the highest” was referring to a salvation in the highest places – a salvation in the part of us that is the most unique and the most like God – that is, a salvation of our spirit?

It is fascinating that Jesus neither rebukes the crowds nor the words they use, even though it seems clear that they misunderstood the nature of salvation and the very ministry and mission of Jesus.

So then, why did the crowds turn on Jesus shortly after the Triumphal Entry on Palm Sunday? 

A couple of insights may prove helpful here.  First is what Jesus did immediately after arriving in Jerusalem.  Both Matthew and Luke record the account of Jesus entering the Temple courts and driving out the money changers and merchants.

To understand this event, we have to first understand that this version of the Temple was referred to as Herod’s Temple.  The original temple, commissioned by Solomon, had effectively a single court and every Israelite and Gentile would have equal access.  Only the priests operated and maintained the interior of the temple, including the holy of holies, but outside of that there was no hierarchy or separation.  This temple was destroyed, and years later Zerubbabel and others rebuilt the temple in a similar fashion.  Centuries later, Herod wished to leave his architectural mark on the temple by renovating it and expanding the courts.  Unfortunately, Herod did what the Jews had been hoping, which was to introduce a system of hierarchy to temple worship, making it more difficult for most people to approach the temple and to pray/worship peacefully.  Where there used to be a single mixed court, now there was the Jewish/Israelite court (nearest to the temple) followed by the court of women (effectively second class citizens) and lastly the court of the gentiles (effectively third class citizens).  Beyond the walls of the courts then was the marketplace, where money changers and merchants would conduct their business.  

The Jews had largely always viewed themselves as God’s chosen people, and had come to idolize their national identity to the extent that they didn’t even want to worship along side of gentiles or women.  So this very layout of Herod’s design only served to reinforce the idea of a temple hierarchy that comes about from the will of man, rather than from the will of God.

To top it all off, adding insult to injury, money changers and merchants had been invited into the court of the gentiles to conduct their business, but their business should have been conducted out in the marketplace.  The noisy and distracting hustle and bustle would not have affected the Jewish men or even the Jewish women, but it would’ve been incredibly troublesome to the gentiles who were in Jerusalem seeking to worship God at the temple.  All of a sudden, Jesus’ display makes much more sense because He was attempting to remind the people of the purpose and original design of the temple.  This was meant to be a house of prayer for all people, not a way to assert moral or nationalistic dominance, not a way to separate people from God.

In short, Jesus’ message rebelled against the idolatrous nationalism of the day.  His message was that we all have the same access to God, and even salvation (of the soul) will be for all people – not just the nation of Israel.

So this is the first helpful insight.  The second helpful insight comes from Zechariah 9:9-10.

Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!  Shout in triumph, O daughter of Jerusalem!  Behold, your king is coming to you; He is just and endowed with salvation, humble and mounted on a donkey, even on a colt, the foal of the donkey.  I will cut off the chariot from Ephraim and the horse from Jerusalem; and the bow of war will be cut off.  And He will speak peace to the nations; and His dominion will be from sea to sea, and from the River to the ends of the earth.

Chariots, horses and bows were images of warfare and violence, but here in this prophetic text we see that Israel’s king will be peaceful.  The weapons and implements of warfare will be cut off – that is, they will not be the methods utilized by the king.  Salvation does not come with war, but with peace.  And He – their king – will speak peace to the nations, not just to the Jews.

And so we get the picture that the crowds on that Palm Sunday were largely filled with people who were doing their best to disregard the Law and the Prophets and the clear guidance these offered in regards to their coming savior.  They instead were preferring a sort of pax romana – the “peace” of Rome, which comes about by violently obliterating all opposition.  They preferred to replicate the folly of darkness rather than to walk as children of the light.

So may we learn from their mistakes.  But more importantly may we learn from our Lord and His peaceful triumph.  This triumph, as Paul noted to the Ephesians, is not against flesh and blood, but against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places.

I’ve written before on context and prooftext, and have quoted the adage, “A text out of context becomes a pretext for a prooftext.”

And as a reminder, a prooftext is when we misread or misinterpret a text so as to take away the wrong meaning.  

I come across these on occasion when transitioning from reading a particular text to then studying the same text.  Oftentimes the initial takeaway is influenced more by my (or someone else’s) previous understanding of a passage or a broader perspective, and less by the text itself, and while this can sometimes produce a useful insight, it always fails to capture the fullness of the text.

It may come as a consolation, however, to learn that we in the modern world are not the only prooftexters, neither is this a new or novel concept.

Jesus often had to point out and rebel against the prooftexting mindset of many of his contemporaries.  Even the Pharisees, with all the good they were inspiring, and the revival movements they were pioneering – encouraging the Israelites to return to faithful covenantal relationship with God, and the practical, regular, ongoing observance of the Law and the Prophets – even these were not immune to the proclivity to prooftext.

In Luke 16:16, Jesus makes a significant observation which is easy to miss.  “The Law and the Prophets were proclaimed until John; since that time the gospel of the kingdom of God has been preached, and everyone is forcing his way into it.” (NASB)

Did you catch it?

The Law and the Prophets were the central message(s) to the Israelites – and was supposed to be the central message for the whole world, had Israel ever chosen to honor the Abrahamic covenant – and was the central message for centuries.  In more recent years, John the Baptist had gone about preaching the gospel/good-news message of the kingdom of God.  “Repent (turn from the destructive habits and patterns of sin), for the kingdom of God is near/at hand.”  

Jesus continued this message as well, and we could even go so far as to say that this was the central message of his ministry and missionary journeys.  The good news is that the kingdom of God is here and now, not somewhere else in some far off time.  This good news reality means we have access to the ability to live a life free from the power and bondage and destruction of sin – we don’t have to struggle through life and be slightly pacified by the idea of an afterlife where things are better.  And Jesus taught this message, sure enough, but He also lived in the reality of the message.  And perhaps even more astonishing is that Jesus proved that this gospel message was actually the real-life display of the Law and the Prophets in action.  This is the fulfillment of the Law – the flesh and blood reality and example of the Old Covenant.  This is the explanation of the Law and the Prophets.

But….

“Everyone is forcing his way into it.”  

Everyone is forcing his way, will, interpretation, perspective, opinion, theology, world view, etc. into it.

Prooftexting has been a problem and challenge for a very long time – perhaps for all of human history.

And this explains why so many of God’s people have so horribly misinterpreted His Word and will through the millennia – they and we have often failed to read and hear and comprehend the messages God has been speaking to us in favor of promoting our own agenda or world view.  This is how we can find Old Testament passages that SEEM to portray God’s nature as different than that of Jesus.  This is how liberty can SEEM to be portrayed as legalism.  And this is how a most clear and logical revelatory text (the Bible) can SEEM confusing or logically inconsistent at times.

Fortunately, Jesus follows up this observation with a wonderfully hope-filled promise: “But it is easier for heaven and earth to pass away than for one stroke of a letter of the Law to fail.” (Luke 16:17).

So this then can be our litmus test.  Are we finding the text of Scripture to be more and more insightful, clear and logically consistent the more we read and study it, or are we finding the opposite to be true?

The closer we get to God and the more we learn to read and study His Word, the closer  we get to the truth.  But the more we rely on prooftexts and the more we try to force our way into it, the further we get from the truth.

May you choose the difficult, wonder-filled path that leads to truth, and that leads to life abundant – life with Christ!  Amen.

A prooftext is when we misread or misinterpret a text so as to take away the wrong meaning.  

“Well then why on earth would anyone do that?” you might ask.  Simply put, we usually do this sub-consciously.

Our brains are hard-wired for efficiency, which is wonderful in many regards.  We develop neurological “short cuts” through repetition and learning (habits, disciplines, etc.) and these allow us to conserve energy for new scenarios requiring problem solving, creativity and critical thinking.

When we think about a bias or a world view, we’re generally referring to these “short cuts” which have become so central to our human experience as to effectively frame our “thought architecture.”  In simpler terms, these produce the “lens” through which we see the world.  (Feel free to refer to the earlier post regarding perspectives and perceptions).

These predispositions and presumptions allow for us to engage in deductive reasoning – moving from the general to the particular.  Deductive reasoning is fast, efficient and easy to the extent that our presumptions are accurate.  Naturally, deductive reasoning is also incredibly frustrating and painful to the extent that our presumptions are inaccurate.

We deduce through our “lens” – our world view, our biases, schemas and other neurological short cuts.

But the way we develop these in the first place is through Inductive reasoning – moving from the particular to the general.  We observe, experience, muse about and process information, and use our takeaways to formulate our lens.  (“This has been true each time I’ve experienced it, therefore it must always be true.” for example).

And while this is often good, normal and safe, there are times when our default method comes up short.  

Several years ago I had begun an in-depth study of the Gospels.  Within a few short months I had developed a growing unease as the Scriptures were failing to align with my deductive method.  I quickly reached a climax of ultimatum where I had to decide either to go on assuming I was right, trying to force the Scriptures to mean what I wanted them to mean, or I had to humble myself, take up the inductive method, and allow the Scriptures themselves to form my theology.

With much weeping and gnashing of teeth, I pried off the blanket of comfort and ease that comes from the deductive method, and learned to “walk again” in the inductive method.  In the subsequent years, I’ve been able to look back and recognize that my earlier, flawed deductive lens was greatly restricting my movement – like trying to run underwater while pulling a battleship behind me.  The freedom of allowing the Scriptures themselves to instruct and build my lens has produced an indescribable joy.

But it all began with tears, heartache, the fear of heresy and pain of death – dying to self, that is.

In theological terms, I gave up Systematic Theology in exchange for Biblical and Narrative Theology.

And the journey continues, of course – the occasional remnant of the old flawed lens will manifest in a prooftext from time to time.  And when it does, I deal with it, inviting the Scriptures once again to reshape my lens.

It’s sort of like physical conditioning, or any new positive discipline we try to implement: It’s always difficult, often painful, and seldom fun, but the resulting freedom, capacity and joy are worth it every time.

A lot of people like the idea of fresh beginnings that come with a new year.  Last year may have been this, that or the other, but THIS year all of that is going to change.

And of course a lot of other people think it’s silly to place significance on any particular day or year.  After all, each one is pretty much the same, right?  So why think the arbitrary action of flipping a page on a calendar should mean anything to us?

Surprise, surprise, things to us hold the meaning that we give to them.  This is why some people love holidays, but others can’t stand them.  This is why some people and cultures celebrate birthdays, but others don’t.

If there’s a reasonable grief with starry-eyed New Year thinking, perhaps it’s found in an unhealthy fascination with either the unknowable future or the unchangeable past.  What can often fall to the periphery is our attention to the present.

And when I refer to our attention on the present, I’m not making some bloated utopian or existential statement.  I am rather referring to our commitment, to our goals, to our disciplines, and to our intentional prioritization.  These are wonderful, and indeed essential elements in our present, but can get “dicey” when they only reside in the future or past.

We remember the past, of course, and will often study it in order to avoid making the same mistakes again.  And we look to the future to plan for the life we desire.  But the “rubber meets the road” in the present.  And a lack of commitment to the present helps to explain why so many New Years resolutions last less than a month.  It’s easy and safe to look back, and it can be fun to look forward, but the perspiration and hard work of the moment is something altogether different.

And this brings us to one of my favorite verses, which is found in Joshua 24:15.  “Choose for yourselves today whom you will serve.”  

I only just recently drew the connection from Joshua’s words to the Israelites and Jesus’ words to his would-be disciples in Luke 9:23.  “If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross daily and follow Me.”

Fortunately Jesus expounds on this idea further in Luke 14:25-35, so we know that He was specifically addressing many of the most significant idols we attempt to worship in our lives.  Sometimes it is various relationships or a sense of duty/obligation/responsibility that claims our undivided worship.  Other times it is ourselves – our safety, preservation, reputation, ease, comfort, accomplishments, looks, etc.  And other times it is our possessions.

Now of course none of these things are bad, and we shouldn’t feel bad for caring about these things.  In fact we can celebrate and enjoy these things – God created good things for us to enjoy.  So it’s not about the things themselves, but about the worship, the idolatry of these things that’s the problem.

And that’s why I love Joshua 24:15 – “choose THIS day”, because each day is THIS day, and each day we get to choose who or what we will serve.  This is encouraging because THIS day is a new beginning and a new opportunity to prioritize what is greatest and best.  THIS day offers new opportunities to reject idols in favor of serving God.  THIS day is an opportunity to pick up my cross and follow Him.

So by all means, celebrate the New Year if you like, or don’t.  But whether it’s January 1st, May 23rd or any other day, “Choose for yourselves THIS day whom you will serve.”

“In the same region there were some shepherds staying out in the fields and keeping watch over their flock by night.  And an angel of the Lord suddenly stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them; and they were terribly frightened.  But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people; for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:8-11)

“‘Behold, the virgin shall be with child and shall bear a Son, and they shall call His name Immanuel,’ which translated means, ‘God with us.’” (Matthew 1:23)

I’ve always loved the Christmas season – the lights and decorations, the cooler weather, the extended times with family and friends (not to mention the time off of school or work).  And it’s been curious to see how my focus has shifted from year to year during this season.

Like many children growing up, Christmas meant presents, sweets and traditions.  We always made a point of spending some time focusing on Jesus’ birth and the joy that brings to the world.  In fact, we even baked a birthday cake for Jesus a couple of years!  

As I grew into adulthood and really began claiming my faith as my own, I found that a different word or emphasis would emerge each year around the holidays, offering a new perspective or depth of insight that I hadn’t previously experienced.  Glory, Joy, Savior, Light, Redemption and Peace are a few examples.

This year I’ve been spending a lot of time researching, studying and contemplating the Gospel, and so it’s only natural that this year’s word happens to be Immanuel – “God is with us.”  Is there a more fitting or accurate description of the Gospel?  

Years ago, I had heard the inspired observation that the Good News (Gospel) really is good news, and that one of the ways you can tell if your perspective is flawed is if your view of the Gospel sounds like bad news.  

What a strange thought.  But then I started reflecting on many of the distorted messages I’ve heard people proclaim through the years, and by golly, many of them really do sound like horrible news.  Bloody images of slaughter and unforgiveness and vengeful wrath – all to “save” us from an arbitrary penalty for our imperfect actions when we were doomed to failure from the start.  And even worse than that, only a small select group of lucky people were able to hear the “right” message about how to transfer their sentence to another – to an innocent – before their doomsday arrived.  And somehow all of this was supposed to inspire love and faith and trust in God, and somehow this was supposed to be “good news.”

But I don’t blame anyone for harboring this perspective.  It has been spread far and wide for the past couple of centuries, and we often don’t pause to reflect and examine what we’ve been handed down until we’ve been given a reason to do so.

In this “upside-down” world of man’s machinations, we see many constant threads in each man-made religion.  God or the gods are high and lofty and separated from humanity – they prefer to keep their distance.  Also, God or the gods seem to always be hungry for blood, violence and sacrifice.  God or the gods are heavily disinterested in the concerns and values of people, although they may occasionally choose to intervene if it suits their preference.  And of course God or the gods are greatly disappointed in the hedonism of humanity, so it’s back to the blood and gore sacrifices to stave off their punishing wrath.

This is precisely what we would expect from a fabricated religion of man forming God or the gods in his own image.

But what about reality?

What about the “right side up” kingdom of God?

A part of what makes the real Gospel so profoundly beautiful is how utterly contrary it is to the fabricated imitations.

While there is much that could be, and should be said regarding sin, salvation and righteousness (and perhaps we’ll address these in future posts), the Gospel is not about sin, salvation or even power, but rather communion – fellowship with God.  Immanuel, God is with us, and through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit God is in us.  The Good News is that God desires, seeks and pursues relationship with us.  He doesn’t hold us at a distance, but rather invites us close.  He unites rather than divides.

This doesn’t make sense to us, because it’s not how we’ve been trained to think.  And yet this is the prevailing sentiment throughout the Scriptures.  Amusing as it is to see, much of the Scriptures are a series of God’s revelations and man’s resistance to these revelations in favor of man-made religion.  

This Christmas, I pray that you would experience the good news of great joy that is found in communion with Immanuel.  May He stretch you and grow you beyond what you could ask or imagine, and bring you to horizons more beautiful and wondrous than you’ve ever experienced.

Merry Christmas!

I recently had a conversation that was all about prayer.  Most of us hold at least a general intellectual ascent to the idea of defining prayer as our conversations with God, and as most of us would agree, healthy conversations are often dialogues – they involve both speaking/communicating and listening/receiving.  The speaking/communicating part comes fairly naturally to most of us, although not for all.  But the real challenge for most of us is the second part – the listening/receiving element.

In Speech Act Theory, all communication is categorized into three elements:

1. Locutionary: This refers to the communication/message itself.  This includes written and spoken messages, but also artistic portrayals that engage our sight, hearing, taste or other senses.
2. Illocutionary: This refers to the originally intended message from the sender – the communicator.
3. Perlocutionary: This refers to the message that was received and interpreted by the recipient.

One of the reasons I like this simple model is that it draws attention to our obvious miscommunication proclivities.  Like it or not, the messages we convey are not always the same messages that are received.  And we can appreciate this to an extent – my worldview, my experiences, my thoughts and even my personality are uniquely different from yours, and so it follows reasonably that each word or expression or idea will mean  something a little different to each of us.  Even if every other factor is static/unchanging, the very fact that we are dynamic and ever-changing lends to a world of varied perceptions and interpretations.

But when we’re applying these concepts to prayer, the illocutionary and perlocutionary elements are the easy part.  Where it truly starts to get interesting is when we begin examining the locutionary element.

There’s an old, flawed expression: “The medium can change, but the message stays the same.”  Preston Sprinkle, in his book Flickering Pixels presents compelling evidence that the medium – the method of our communications – actually changes the message itself, as well as how it is received.  

To use a simple illustration, a person might ask “What is coffee?”  I might respond with a description of coffee, or even explain its history and various harvesting and brewing methods.  But I could instead answer by showing a handful of coffee beans, or even a cup of brewed coffee, and this visual would create a different perlocutionary reception.  Alternatively I could encourage the asker to listen to sound of coffee being poured into a cup, or the sound of coffee beans being ground up.  Perhaps they could smell the coffee, or even taste the coffee.  Every one of these would be valid answers to the question of “What is coffee?” but each medium changes the perlocutionary element – the message/answer that is received.

And so when we pray, and specifically in our times of listening to the Holy Spirit, it can be helpful to remember that God often communicates with us in unique and interesting ways.  When we are not careful, or attentive, or heaven-forbid we’re stubborn, we can miss out on something beautiful, wondrous, and significant.  

Think of how music can move us and connect with us in a way that’s different than words.  A minor key can evoke sorrow or mystery.  A major key can evoke happiness or resolution.  

The voice of God is the voice of Spirit – of heart and soul.  It is the resonance of truth, the wonder of beauty, and the warmth of love.  And so it is different, but no less real or significant than the words we speak with others.  

We can, of course, use words in our conversations with God, and He sometimes uses words with us (mostly through the Word), but much of the time it is more of a joining of our spirit with the Spirit of God, and with “utterances too deep for words.”