In Search of Boaz and Ruth in the 21st Century (Yet Another Blog About Singleness)

I had a good friend commenting on how she couldn’t find any men who fit the role of Boaz in the Bible. I have to agree. Not too many godly men stepping up and taking charge spiritually. There are lots of guys out there, but not nearly as many real men.

Then again, as a single guy, I have a hard time finding Ruths. There aren’t too many women pursuing godliness with a passion these days. As before, there are a lot of girls out there, but not too many real godly women.

Then I got to thinking on the way home. Maybe the problem is me. Maybe I’m not finding my Ruth because I’m not trying consistently to be a Boaz. I’m all for godliness and holiness when it’s convenient and cheap, but not so much when it takes time and costs me something.

If I’m looking for certain qualities in a mate, I need to have those showing in my own life. Or at least I need to be developing those characteristics. I can’t expect kindness in a future mate if I don’t show it myself. I can’t expect deep spirituality if I am shallow when it comes to the things of God.

I think this applies to married people as well. You can’t expect your spouse to be something you’re not willing to be. You have to own up to your part and change yourself before you demand change from your husband or wife.

I know I have a lot of work to do before I can call myself a godly man. Sometimes, it seems like an impossible task and I feel like I will never get there. But God is best at taking the impossible and making it reality.

So before you point the finger at the opposite sex, make sure you look in the mirror first and find out if you need to get your priorities right first. That’s all.

 

 

 

Little Victories

Sometimes, we make Christianity an “all or nothing” affair. That means if I don’t completely succeed, I’ve failed. If I don’t completely overcome every temptation and obey the voice of God at every turn, I’ve lost.

But I think that’s not how it works. Most days are three steps forward, two steps back. Most days, you win some and you lose some, but you always learn something from it.

I’ve learned that sometimes you have to be thankful for the little victories. Sometimes, those are the only things that keep you going when the battle seems hopeless and life seems too hard.

I found today that it was okay that someone I wanted to notice me didn’t. A conversation I wanted to happen didn’t and I was more than okay with it. I was fine.

I didn’t try to force something that wasn’t there. I stepped back and trusted God. I count that as a little victory.

It’s when you don’t give into fear. When you don’t let anxiety overwhelm you. When you’re able to take a couple of deep breaths and plow through. You may not look so pretty at the end of the day, but you’re alive and standing. And in my book that counts as a victory.

So here’s a lesson I’ve learned the hard way. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Don’t beat yourself up when you’re not at your best or when you mess up yet again. Remember that God really is bigger than the problems you’re facing. Remember his plans for you are still good and still in operation.

Remember all the little victories you’ve experienced over the years. Also remember that the biggest victory of the biggest fight you will ever face is already won. How do I know? Because Jesus has already won it.

 

 

Late-Night Thoughts About Joseph

“Joseph replied, ‘Don’t be afraid. Do I act for God? Don’t you see, you planned evil against me but God used those same plans for my good, as you see all around you right now—life for many people.'” (Gen. 50:20)

As I have confessed before, there’s a whole lot I don’t know. Especially when it comes to why horrible things happen to godly people. I can point to verses that talk about God working in mysterious ways and how he works all things together for good, but at the end of the day, I’m unable to explain why God couldn’t have worked it out for them in a less painful way.

That’s when I yield to faith. I yield to what I know of God and his character. I yield to what I know of his proven track record in my own life. And I have to fall down on my knees and confess that he is good and that I have nowhere else to turn.

Joseph comes to mind. If anyone in the Bible had a right to play the victim card, it was Joseph. Sold into slavery by his own flesh and blood, falsely accused and slandered by the wife of the man that he had done nothing but serve faithfully for years, and forgotten in prison by those who promised they would remember. I would have thrown in the towel long before then.

But Joseph chose forgiveness. He chose to look with eyes of faith to what human eyes couldn’t see– that God was working even in the worst of circumstances to save not just one man, but an entire nation. He, like so many others, looked to the promises of God and counted them as good as done even when they seemed as good as dead.

I love what a pastor says. God can take that worst moment of your life, that most painful and humiliating season, and make it the first line of your testimony. To borrow a quote I’ve heard a lot lately, he can turn your mess into your message, your test into your testimony, your trial into triumph, and the victim into a victor. You will be able to speak to the pain that no one else can touch because you’ve walked through it.

I love this verse in Hebrews 11: “By an act of faith, Joseph, while dying, prophesied the exodus of Israel, and made arrangements for his own burial.” In other words, Joseph saw that God was able to redeem every single part of what he went through for a purpose far greater than himself. A purpose that saw the rise of a people of God, and later the Messiah.

May you and I see our circumstances with that kind of faith. May we trust that God is just as able to redeem our pain to make something equally as glorious and beautiful out of our messes.

A Tough Question

Usually when I’m thinking of what to write about, it’s not the main topic of the sermon or speech. It’s a side comment or a throwaway statement that catches me off guard. Tonight, it was a question that a guy asked that convicted me in a big way.

If God took away your family, friends, possessions, job, money, and all those other props and crutches you lean on, would you still be able to say, “God, I trust in you for my future” or would your mind immediately start churning away with ideas of how you could manage your own life?

The reason the question broad-sided me so much was the underlying question: who are what are you really trusting in at the end of the day? Where does your hope lie?

I think that for me at times my trust has been in a set routine. I have trusted in the fact that I had a comfortable and familiar set of friends who would always be around. I have trusted in income from a job or the security of employment that I thought was guaranteed.

When your props get knocked out, when friends move away or get married or disappear, you find out how much your trust was really in people and not in God. When out of the blue, you get called into the office at work to be told, “Your position is being eliminated,” you find out how much faith you placed in your career instead of Christ.

I truly believe in my mind that if all God did was save me from my sins and never gave me another blessing or did one more thing for me, that would be more than I deserved. But the way I live sometimes gives the impression that I feel entitled to God’s blessings. It shows that I am worshiping the gifts more than the Giver.

I heard a friend say that sometimes you don’t even have to have perfect trust. Even if you have the weakest kind of faith and say, “God, I trust you in this moment and I give this into your hands,” God will honor that. Like a pastor said, “All God needs is a place to start,” a halting, stammering statement of belief that is mixed with fear and doubt and says, “I believe. Help my unbelief.”

It’s not how strong your faith is, but how strong the object of your faith is. Or to put it this way, it’s not about giant-sized faith, but one that;s the size of a mustard seed placed in a great God who is bigger than your circumstances and problems.

 

 

A Different Take on Weddings

I went to the wedding today. It was lovely, as just about all weddings are. As usual, many people put a lot of time and thought and effort into the planning and preparation.

Many people would say that the wedding day is all about the bride. That it’s her day to shine and it’s all about her. I would disagree. It’s not the bride’s mother’s day either, even though she’s dreamed of this day since her girl was little and serving imaginary tea to her dressed-up dolls.

In my humble opinion, the wedding day is all about Jesus. Or it should be. Anyone who really understands the depths of marriage and all its symbolism knows that it’s more than just the union of two people. The Bible in Ephesians reminds us that marriage is a picture of just how much Christ loves His Bride, the Church, and gave everything for her.

A biblical marriage is a lived-out testimony to that great love of Jesus for the Church. It’s about two people coming together to not only serve each other, but to serve others in a way that’s better than they each could individually.

I haven’t been married, but I know that marriage is hard. Probably harder in this anti-marriage culture than ever before. Only two people under the Lordship of Christ and each in love with Jesus can not only sustain a marriage and thrive in it. Only the indwelling Spirit of Christ can overcome the innate selfishness of two people that really shows its ugly head after the marriage begins.

So I’m happy for both the bride and groom. Nothing gives me more joy to see the bride in all her radiance walking down the aisle, looking more beautiful than ever. Nothing makes me smile than seeing the groom’s face when he sees his bride for the first time in her wedding gown.

But nothing beats the joy that knowing when a wedding truly celebrates Jesus and exalts Him to His rightful place in the marriage. Nothing blesses my heart more than when a wedding ceremony is truly a worship celebration.

One day when I get married, I hope it will truly be celebration of the goodness and greatness of God. I hope that it’s not my bride’s day or her mother’s day, but a day that belongs most of all to Jesus.

 

A Bike Ride in Crockett Part (and What Later Came of It)

“I love God because he listened to me, listened as I begged for mercy. He listened so intently as I laid out my case before him. Death stared me in the face, hell was hard on my heels. Up against it, I didn’t know which way to turn; then I called out to God for help: “Please, God!” I cried out. “Save my life!” God is gracious—it is he who makes things right, our most compassionate God. God takes the side of the helpless; when I was at the end of my rope, he saved me.” (Psalm 116:1-2 MSG)

I pulled my bike out of the dormant cocoon it’s been in for some time and took it down to Crockett Park in Brentwood, TN. Actually, I crammed it in the back of my Jeep and drove it down there (if you want to get all technical about it).

It was a beautiful moment, me riding my bike in postcard-perfect weather through scenic paved trails with overhanging tree branches serving as a kind of natural canopy. It got me thinking.

Too often we as believers try so very hard to be relevant and trendy and cool and successful when all God calls us to be is faithful and obedient. We’re not called to re-imagine or re-invent the Gospel story. Just to tell our story and how we are different people because of what Jesus has done for us.

The Story God wrote doesn’t need any emotional embellishments or dramatic additions. It has stood for 2,000 years through multiple generations and languages and been powerful to save people from all backgrounds and walks of life in every part of the world.

I guess the connection between a bike ride through the park and sharing my faith is this: just as I don’t need to hang streamers or other decorations to improve nature, I shouldn’t have to add to the gospel story to make it more palatable or relevant. The Story is eternally relevant. It never goes out of style or becomes obsolete. We will always need it, need to hear it, need to be reminded of it every day for the rest of our lives.

 

 

 

Another Dangerous Prayer (from Kairos Tonight)

I am mulling over tonight’s message from Kairos on a stomach full of chips and salsa and tortilla soup from Chuy’s. That’s my favorite meal there and I recommend it if you haven’t tried it already. Shameless Tex-Mex plug.

One of the most dangerous and liberating prayers you can pray is: Lord, use me.

It’s dangerous because you never know how God will answer it. You never know where or to whom He will send you. Most likely, it will be a place out of your comfort zone to people you wouldn’t normally associate with. It may not be the safest part of town and it may mean you miss a concert or a party you’d rather be going to.

It will mean that you suddenly are on the radar screen of the enemy. Satan will throw everything he’s got at you if you pray this prayer and really and truly mean it. Probably, those who are most vehemently against what you’re doing will be fellow Christians and the ones criticizing you the most will be churchgoers. But if God is for you, as the song says, who will be able to stand against you?

“Use me” is also the most liberating prayer. Namely, because you realize that God can use you. In fact, God can take any surrendered vessel and any person who has a heart of service and obedience and work mightily through them. If God can use a few fishes and a few loaves of bread to feed a multitude, He can use your life to bless your world. I love what Martin Luther King, Jr, said:

“Everybody can be great…because anybody can serve. You don’t have to have a college degree to serve. You don’t have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love.”

May God give us hearts full of grace and souls generated by love. May He use us to go where no one else will go to the people no one else wants to touch. May we be a blessing everywhere we go, every place we are to everyone we meet.

 

 

It’s a Beautiful Thing

It’s a beautiful thing when you are grateful for waking up each morning and fully appreciate all the blessings you have been taking for granted.

It’s a beautiful thing when you can raise your hands in worship as fervantly in when life is falling apart as when life is going great.

It’s a beautiful thing when you’re in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same way and you realize you’re perfectly content to be friends with that person and to be the best friend you can be.

It’s a beautiful thing when you can release your child to be all God made him or her to be, even if that takes him or her half a world away.

It’s a beautiful thing when you see your marriage as a chance for you to love your spouse unconditionally like Christ loved the Church.

It’s a beautiful thing when you have no reason anymore to hope, but hope remains.

It’s a beautiful thing when you’ve fallen for the thousandth time, but you get up one more time, thankful for Grace that never gives up.

It’s a beautiful thing when you say goodbye to friends but hold them in your heart at the same time and know that distance is no great barrier for those God has brought together in friendship.

It’s a beautiful thing when you can say “Thy will be done,” even if it means saying “All my dreams and plans and desires be undone” at the same time.

It’s a beautiful thing when you can pray, “God, use me however, wherever, and whenever you want. I give you my money, my time, my body, and my very life for Your Kindom.”

It’s a beautiful thing when you stop praying for blessings and start praying to be a blessing.

It’s a beautiful thing when you become a conduit for God’s power and love to flow through to the world and God can see people with your eyes, go to them with your feet, touch them with your hands, and love them with your heart.

It’s a beautiful thing indeed.

By Faith

I am an optimistic and positive person for the most part. I usually see the glass half full. Unless it’s when I’m really thirsty, then the glass is empty, ’cause I just drank it all.

Sometimes, I have serious doubts. Sometimes, it feels like my dreams and goals are just out of reach and nothing will really ever change. Sometimes, I’m not even really sure what it is I’m reaching for.

Everybody has those times, if they’re honest. Everybody doubts, everybody questions, and as the old R.E.M. song says, everybody hurts.

The question is, Will you still believe even when common sense tells you not to? Will you speak your faith even when you don’t feel it and the words coming out of your mouth feel fake and fraudulent? Will you still hold on?

The old cliche is true. It really is darkest just before the dawn. I’ve found that just when I feel like I’m at my lowest ebb, that’s when I see God moving in my circumstances and in my life.

The promises of God are just as true in the dark as they are in the light. He is just as faithful in the storm as in the sunshine. He is just as near when you can’t feel Him as when you can.

I’ve said it before many times, but it’s true. What you think may lie to you. What you feel may lie to you. But God won’t. Ever.

So many people in the Bible had times when they felt God’s promises were hopelessly out of reach. I think about David and Abraham as examples. David when he was running for his life from Saul and Abraham when he and Sarah were still childless and eligible for Social Security.

But they held on to the promises of God even when everything in them (and probably everyone around them) told them not to, and that faith was rewarded in the nick of time in God’s perfect timing.

May you and I hold on as tenaciously and as stubbornly as they did.

It will be so much more than worth it in the end.

 

Vessels: Meditation on Kairos Tonight

I love the illustration Mike Glenn used tonight in Kairos. He spoke of washing down an Oreo with a glass of milk, only to discover at the bottom of the glass some residue left from the dishwasher.

You woudn’t say the top half of the milk was clean and keep drinking. You wouldn’t say the glass was mostly clean. You’d say the glass was dirty.

How can I call my life clean if I have unconfessed sins and hidden bad habits and areas of mine that I’ve not put under the Lordship of Jesus? How can I expect God to use me if I am mostly clean? God doesn’t use lives that are mostly clean.

I need to be completely clean.

But that’s the beauty of it.

I can be clean if I just simply ask. First I confess. I agree with God that I did or said the wrong thing and left undone the right thing. That I chose my way instead of God’s way. Then I repent, turning 180 degrees from my way to God’s way.

Furthermore, if you want to be a vessel used by God, you can’t wait until the storms of life to get ready. You have to be ready.

Mary was already God’s servant when He called her to be the vessel to bring Jesus into the world. Joseph was already a righteous man when God called him to take Mary as His wife and raise Jesus as his own son.

They didn’t wait until God called them to get ready. They were ready.

The beautiful part of all this is it’s never too late to get ready. It’s never to late to ask God to mold and make you into the person God can use to impact the world around you.

Whether you’re 20 or 40 or 60 or 80, God can still take your life and use it to bless many more than you could possibly imagine.

I want to be like the loaves and fishes Jesus used to feed the 5,000. I want to be broken and blessed, so that the pieces of my life can bless far more people than a safe, unbroken life ever could. I want to be confessed and clean and ready when the time comes that God takes my life and uses it as He sees fit.

I hope you do, too.