What We Think About God

“What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us. Worship is pure or base as the worshiper entertains high or low thoughts of God. For this reason the gravest question before the Church is always God Himself, and the most portentous fact about any man is not what he at a given time may say or do, but what he in his deep heart conceives God to be like” (A W Tozer).

Most people have the idea that God is like us — only bigger, stronger, faster, smarter, etc. He’s like the advanced, idealized version of us. But He’s not.

A lot of us have probably fallen into the trap of thinking that God would never do or say something because we would never do or say that. That’s a dangerous theology that puts me as the standard by which God must abide instead of the other way around.

God is not me on steroids. God is not like me. God is completely other. Apart from God’s divine initiative in revealing Himself to us, we could never ever in a million lifetimes know Him. But He revealed Himself generally through creation and specifically through Jesus. One famous author and theologian once said that Jesus was God spelling Himself out in a language humanity could understand.

All this talk about how religion is bad and we just need to follow Jesus is true to a degree. It depends on how you define the word religion. If it’s a set of rules that you need to follow to get to God, then it’s bad. But if it’s a way of understanding God, then it’s a good thing.

Believing in God is essential, but what you believe about God is vital. If you sincerely believe wrong things about God that don’t line up with the God of the Bible, then you’re sincerely wrong. You’ve chosen to follow a god of your own devising instead of the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.

Who we are depends a lot on what we believe about God as much as if we believe in God. How we view God says a lot about how we view ourselves and others.

“I want neither a terrorist spirituality that keeps me in a perpetual state of fright about being in right relationship with my heavenly Father nor a sappy spirituality that portrays God as such a benign teddy bear that there is no aberrant behavior or desire of mine that he will not condone. I want a relationship with the Abba of Jesus, who is infinitely compassionate with my brokenness and at the same time an awesome, incomprehensible, and unwieldy Mystery” (Brennan Manning).

Knowing God

“We know God but as men born blind know the fire: they know that there is such as thing as fire, for they feel it warm them, but what it is they know not. So, that there is a God we know, but what He is we know little, and indeed we can never search Him out to perfection; a finite creature can never fully comprehend that which is infinite” (Thomas Manton).

As I grow older, I become increasingly thankful that God has made Himself known. I realize more and more that apart from that revelation, I could never hope to know about God, much less know Him.

Romans 1 says that there is enough evidence in nature to prove there is a God. Romans 1 also says that because of sin, our minds are corrupted to the point where we can’t seek after God unless He seeks after us first. Until God shines a light on our hearts, we remain in the dark.

I love the idea that in heaven, we will never fully exhaust all there is to know about God. That’s what will keep our worship from becoming dull (plus having the experience of being in the presence of the living God).

Every time we worship God in heaven, He reveals another aspect of His character. Because God is infinite, there is no end to the joy of learning new things about God. After each time, our worship grows deeper and fuller and richer.

Here on earth, we’re still learning as well. Often because of the old sin nature that’s still within us, we have to unlearn some bad thinking about God in order to be able to fully grasp who He is. But God never tires of us or grows impatient with us or decides that we aren’t worth the effort anymore.

That should make Sunday worship a little sweeter. That hopefully will help you to sing a little louder and live a little bolder as you and I draw closer and closer to our faith one day being made sight.

Wimpy Faith

This is from Foxe’s Book of Martyrs:

“When sentence was read condemning [Mrs. Prest] to the flames, she lifted up her voice and praised God, adding, ‘This day have I found that which I have long sought.’ When they tempted her to recant, ‘That will I not (said she), God forbid that I should lose the life eternal, for this carnal and short life. I will never turn from my heavenly husband to my earthly husband; from the fellowship of angels to mortal children; and if my husband and children be faithful, then I am theirs. God is my father, God is my mother, God is my sister, my brother, my kinsman; God is my friend, most faithful.'”

I read something like that and my faith feels kinda wimpy. I don’t face anywhere near that kind of persecution. Compared to most believers around the world, my life is easy. Yet I can complain with the best of them.

I do believe there is a supernatural grace given to those undergoing extreme persecution. There’s an endowed strength given to those who are about to lay down their lives for the sake of the gospel. But I also believe one of the reasons the early church was so true and faithful was because they were the outsiders and the marginalized. They were the ones cast out and trodden down.

I definitely am not praying for persecution to come to America, but I think it’s inevitable. Persecution is the norm. America is the exception. Maybe that’s why we so often have such a watered-down gospel and diluted faith.

I recommend Foxe’s Book of Martyrs (preferably one with updated language). It’s hard to read sometimes, but also can be very encouraging to see those who endured torture and death because they like Jesus saw the joy that was laid out in front of them. May we be as faithful.

Known by the Scars

I have a few scars. One is on my left hand, a reminder from when I was in a wreck back in the day. I pulled out in front of a full-sized truck, thinking it was a four-way stop. It was not.

Thankfully, I ended up being okay aside from a deep cut on my hand from the dashboard and being generally stiff and sore the next day from the impact. My scar is a reminder of how God saved me from my own foolishness that day.

I remember that Jesus also has scars. His resurrected and glorified body still had the nail piercings on His hands and feet, as well as the wound in His side. Those were the proofs that it was really and truly Jesus raised from the dead.

But also it’s a way of giving value to all those who have scars of their own. Some are more obvious than others. Some are hidden, but some are in places where we can’t hide them. Some of us are ashamed or embarrassed by our scars.

But scars tell a story where you survived. Scars are the reminder of something that could have killed you but didn’t. Scars are proof of a divine intervention. In a way, when you can wear your scars proudly, you identify with Jesus and His own scars.

Most of all, your scars should remind you that Jesus bore the wounds that gave Him the scars for you and for me. He was wounded for our transgressions, as it says in Isaiah 53. By His stripes, we are healed. He bore what we should have born because of our sins, and we get the rewards of a perfect life that should only belong to Jesus. That’s the great exchange. That’s the gospel.

Scars can be something to hide, like those humiliating moments or shameful parts of the past, or they can be part of your testimony. A pastor once said that true healing is evident when that part of your story that you swore you’d never tell anybody becomes the first line of your testimony.

“Do you know what St. Peter says to everyone who tries to get into heaven?” 

“Peter says, ‘Don’t you have any scars?’ And when most would respond proudly, ‘Well, no, no I don’t,’ Peter says, ‘Why not? Was there nothing worth fighting for?” (Matthew Perry, Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing).

The Great Paradox

“The great paradox of life is that those who lose their lives will gain them. This paradox becomes visible in very ordinary situations. If we cling to our friends, we may lose them, but when we are nonpossessive in our relationships, we will make many friends. When fame is what we seek and desire, it often vanishes as soon as we acquire it, but when we have no need to be known, we might be remembered long after our deaths. When we want to be in the center, we easily end up on the margins, but when we are free enough to be wherever we must be, we find ourselves often in the center.

Giving away our lives for others is the greatest of all human arts. This will gain us our lives” (Henri Nouwen).

“If you refuse to take up your cross and follow Me on the narrow road, then you are not worthy of Me. To find your life, you must lose your life—and whoever loses his life for My sake will find it” (Matthew 10:38-39, The Voice).

That’s the paradox. You find your life by losing it. You gain love by giving it away. People notice you when you deflect the praise to the King of the universe instead of yourself. You’re blessed when you’re poor in spirit, meek, mourning, and pure in heart.

Instead of following the world’s path to success, Jesus went down the road of downward mobility. He gave up clinging to His rights of equality with God. He took on human form. He took the form of a servant. He was obedient to the point of death. His death was that of a common criminal’s crucifixion. Then God gave Him a name that is above every other name.

That’s our goal. To be unknown on earth but famous in heaven. Heavenly fame looks like faithfulness. Heavenly fame looks like denying yourself, taking up your cross daily, and following Jesus, no matter the cost.

That’s where you find your life. That’s where you find life.

The Sweetest Lesson

“Spread out your petition before God, and then say, ‘Thy will, not mine, be done.’ The sweetest lesson I have learned in God’s school is to let the Lord choose for me” (Dwight L Moody).

I love the imagery of spreading out my petition before God. It comes from 2 Kings 19 where King Hezekiah receives a threatening letter from the Assyrians who are poised to invade the land. Instead of rushing into rash action, Hezekiah takes it before the Lord, literally spreading it out as a kind of offering of submission.

I also think of King Jehoshaphat who faced another massive army, but responded with the prayer, “We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you” (2 Chronicles 20:12, ESV).

In short, they both chose to let God fight for them. They decided to let God choose for them.

In my lifetime, I have had several instances where I chose for myself and it did not go well. I was like the greedy man who took the wrong grail cup in the Indiana Jones movie only to hear the words “You have chosen . . . poorly” and basically shrivel up and die.

But every time I have been wise enough and patient enough to let God decide, I have never regretted the outcome. That’s assuming my patience lasted long enough for me actually to wait on the outcome, no matter how long it seemed to take.

Maybe it’s a good idea to literally take whatever it is that is troubling you and spread it before the Lord. It could be unpaid bills or a jury summons or some other document that gives you great anxiety. Or maybe you can spread out your hands in a posture of surrender.

Either way, you and I both need to let God choose. The old prayer still works: Thy will be done. One of my favorite fictional characters, Father Tim Cavanaugh, calls it the prayer that never fails because you truly can’t go wrong asking for God’s will over and above your own.

Thy will be done, no matter what. Thy will be done, even if it means my will is undone (with a nod to Elisabeth Elliott). Thy will be done. Period.

Of All My Posts, This Is One of Them

Not every blog post will be a winner. Sometimes, there’s just nothing to write about. Or in my case, the ol’ noggin has shut down for the night. So you get a post like this.

I do think it’s important to fill at least part of your day with something that brings you joy. While it’s important to be aware of what’s going on in the world, it should become your whole day. Make time in your day for listening to music or going for a walk or simple sitting in silence and meditating on the goodness of God.

Also, you should periodically treat yourself to foods that you really like. And by periodically, I don’t mean periodically through the day, but every week or so. You don’t want to become diabetic (or pre-diabetic like me). As with most everything else, moderation is key.

It always helps to keep the big picture in mind. Sometimes, I get caught up in the minutae and forget that what I’m worrying over and obsessing about is finite and temporary. There’s no need to waste energy over something that you probably won’t remember a year from now.

It’s also helpful to keep a mindset of prayer throughout the day. That doesn’t mean you’re constantly in prayer, but as God prompts you through various events or people or memories, keep the conversation with God open.

And at the end of the day, it’s always nice to have a furry friend to come home to. In my case, it’s a very lovable tortoiseshell feline named Peanut, but you should have a dog or cat or hamster or something that will always be glad to see you when you walk through your front door.

Oh, and be sure to cultivate a grateful spirit. That goes a long way toward making your day better when you focus on the good and not the bad.

It Says That?

“Many are the afflictions of the righteous,
    but the Lord delivers him out of them all” (Psalm 34:19, ESV).

How I wish the verse said “Many are the afflictions of the wicked, but the righteous will avoid them all.” Unfortunately, it does not.

There is a popular brand of Christianity that preaches a prosperity gospel. Basically, if you’re righteous, you will reap spiritual, physical, and financial blessings. You will never see hardship. Any kind of suffering is not of God and you can pray it away if you have enough faith.

But Jesus said that in this world you will have trouble. Not might. Not may. Will. As in the forecast for your life is that there’s a 100% chance of affliction and trouble in your future. That’s the part that can be a bit depressing if you focus just on that part.

But the second is the hopeful part. But God delivers the righteous out of them all. As my pastor used to say, God never gives us a way out but a way through. We may walk through some dark valleys, but our Shepherd is with us.

I’ve pointed it out before, but in Psalm 23, the first few verses talk about God as our Shepherd in the third person. He makes, He leads, He restores. But in the valley of the shadow of death, it changes. Suddenly, it’s You are with me. In that place and in that season, God becomes personal and the experience becomes intimate. Theoretical head knowledge becomes precious wisdom gained from life experience of God walking with us through the worst that hell can throw at us and delivering us from it all.

No matter what, God is with us. That, not the inevitable affliction, is the key. God will be with us and all will be well because He is making all things new.

11 Years Later

I figured out a little while ago that it was 11 years ago today that The Church at Avenue South had their first ever Easter service at 2510 Franklin Road, months before the official September launch of the campus. I distinctly remember we had rows of white plastic folding chairs set in front of a screen. There were maybe 100 of us with a handful of kids.

This Sunday, we had an overflow set up in the basement with just as many chairs. Upstairs in the sanctuary, we had three services to accommodate over 900 worshippers with plenty of kids in attendance. Not to mention we celebrated our first ever Easter Sunday in our new facility that probably seemed like a pipe-dream 11 years ago.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the tyranny of the urgent and forget that sometimes we are living in the answered prayers of the past. So many of those things we pleaded with God to have are now the same things we routinely take for granted in our quest to get more from God.

That’s why gratitude is vital to the life of a believer and to a community of faith. It stops entitlement dead in its tracks and keeps us reminded of God’s continual faithfulness because we like those Israelites of old are forgetful and prone to wander.

I love that we have so many new members who never set foot in the 2510 Franklin Road location. Probably a small handful are left who remember that first Easter service in 2014. But God was there. And He still shows up every Sunday at 901 Acklen Avenue.

I can’t wait to see what the next 11 years holds in store. Or even the next 11 months. Whatever it is, I’m sure it will be exceedingly abundantly beyond anything we could ever ask or dream or imagine or hope for. That’s just God’s way.

The Last Week

Today is Palm Sunday and marks the beginning of the last week of Jesus’ earthly ministry, the week leading up to Good Friday and Easter Sunday. I’ve been here before, but I feel like so many times I’ve rushed to get through it to what’s next.

This time, I want to slow down a bit and sit under the cross. I want to be still long enough to hear God speak a word over me about what this week means for me and for all those who call on the Messiah out of a genuine faith. I want to be moved to tears and fully take in the price that Jesus paid for me.

I finished an incredible devotional by one of my favorite writers, Charles Martin. It’s called It Is Finished and spends 40 days walking the path that led from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday, sparing no details and leaving no stone unturned. It was one of the best books I’ve read in a long time, and I hope to read it again some day.

I want Easter to mean more than the Easter Bunny or Cadbury chocolate eggs (though I am very much a fan of both). I don’t want to look at the date on the calendar and miss the point of the day — Jesus who knew no sin became sin for me that I might become the righteousness of God in Christ.

I don’t want to be the same person in seven days as the person who is now writing these words. I want to be more like Jesus, more aware of the sacrifice He made, and more willing to count the cost and take up my own cross. I want to be more of a disciple and less of an admirer. I want to be more of a follower and less of a fan. I want to be a truly biblical Christian and not a watered-down, American Christian.

I’m thankful that God is far more patient with me than I am with Him and takes far more time with me than I ever have with Him. At this point, I say, “Lord, do whatever it takes to make me Yours, Your disciple, Your own. Have Your way in me. Amen.”