The Litmus Test of Our Faith

“We pray for the big things and forget to give thanks for the ordinary, small (and yet really not small) gifts. How can God entrust great things to one who will not thankfully receive from Him the little things?” (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together: The Classic Exploration of Faith in Community)

I wonder if the litmus test of genuine faith is gratitude. I also wonder if one of the hindrances to answered prayers is failure to give thanks for previous answered prayers. It could just be that the more we’re able to give thanks for God’s graces and gifts, the more discerning we are to God’s responses in the present. The more we can see and hear God at work.

I also know that God is not bound to my obedience. The life of faith is a life of grace. I know that if for God to answer one of my prayers required complete faithfulness and obedience, I’d be lost, both figuratively and literally.

Still, the word I keep hearing over and over is thanksgiving. Saying “thank you” to God isn’t a magic formula that forces God’s hand, but a prayer that frees us to see more of God’s smaller gifts and maybe makes us able to receive the larger gifts.

Telling Stories

“Child,’ said the Lion, ‘I am telling you your story, not hers. No one is told any story but their own” (C.S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy).

I’m beginning to understand that we all have different stories. We also have different seasons and struggles. I am in the middle of a career transition. I overheard where someone else has a parent dealing with a cancer diagnosis. Yet someone else I know has struggled within the past year with mental health issues.

Each story is different. Each struggle is unique. It’s no good for me to compare my story with someone else’s and to either think that mine doesn’t matter because it’s not a potentially terminal diagnosis or that I have it way worse because someone else might have an ingrown toenail.

The Bible doesn’t say God never gives us more than we can handle. Often, it’s way beyond our capacity to bear so that we are forced to lean in on the Lord for daily strength. He does give us grace equal to the struggle. He does promise to be with us in each season.

In each story, the testimony is that God is able. I am in as much need of God’s continual grace and strength as anyone else alive right now on this planet. My need is no more or less than theirs. And my God is equally up to the task.

That’s the beauty of intercessory prayer. I enter into your story and you enter into mine. We share each others burdens and magnify the name of Jesus equally. Sometimes, we can speak words when the other has none or believe for the other when they can’t find the faith at the moment.

The best part is that God is always the hero of our stories and we can rest assured that in every case we know that God works all things together for good and for a happy ending.

The Soliloquy of Prayer

They tell me, Lord, that when I seem
To be in speech with you,
Since but one voice is heard, it’s all a dream,
One talker aping two.

Sometimes it is, yet not as they
Conceive it. Rather, I
Seek in myself the things I hoped to say,
But lo!, my wells are dry.

Then, seeing me empty, you forsake
The listener’s role and through
My dumb lips breathe and into utterance wake
The thoughts I never knew

And thus you neither need reply
Nor can; thus, while we seem
Two talkers, though are One forever, and I
No dreamer, but thy dream” (Unknown, quoted in Letters to Malcolm by C. S. Lewis).

That’s how prayer works for me. Sometimes, I feel like I’m talking to the ceiling. My words can’t possibly be reaching God’s ears, and if they are, He doesn’t seem to hear. But then I remember that God is not just in some faraway heaven beyond all time and space. He’s in the room with me.

Other times, my prayers seem to come from somewhere else. I find myself praying words the same way an actor speaks lines written by another. It’s as if God Himself is giving me the very words to speak to Him the desires of my heart.

Often, I will rattle off a list of my own requests and desires and then give God no time to reply. Even then, I think He hears the heart cry behind the list. He is way more patient with me than I am with Him most of the time.

On occasion, I won’t even be able to speak. Either through grief or fear, I can’t find the words. In those moments, the Holy Spirit and Jesus intercede for me in those groanings too deep for words.

Whatever the case, I am never alone. If there is but one voice speaking, it’s not mine, but God praying through me to God who hears and honors the request. Not God in the sense of me and all things are a part of God, but God as holy and totally other who still dwells in me and makes Himself known to me. That God.

A Puritan Prayer

This is most likely a repeat, but it’s worth reading again. It’s from The Valley of Vision, a collection of Puritan prayers that is one of the best books I have ever read outside of the Bible:

“O God of Grace,
Thou hast imputed my sin to my substitute,
and hast imputed his righteousness to my soul,
clothing me with bridegroom’s robe,
decking me with jewels of holiness.
But in my Christian walk I am still in rags;
my best prayers are stained with sin;
my penitential tears are so much impurity;
my confessions of wrong are so many aggravations of sin;
my receiving the Spirit is tinctured with selfishness.
I need to repent of my repentance;
I need my tears to be washed;
I have no robe to bring to cover my sins,
no loom to weave my own righteousness;
I am always standing clothed in filthy garments,
and by grace am always receiving change of raiment,
for thou dost always justify the ungodly;
I am always going into the far country,
and always returning home as a prodigal,
always saying, Father, forgive me,
and thou art always bringing forth the best robe.
Every morning let me wear it,
every evening return in it,
go out to the day’s work in it,
be married in it,
be wound in death in it,
stand before the great white throne in it,
enter heaven in it shining as the sun.
Grant me never to lose sight of
the exceeding sinfulness of sin,
the exceeding righteousness of salvation,
the exceeding glory of Christ,
the exceeding beauty of holiness,
the exceeding wonder of grace” (The Valley of Vision – A collection of Puritan Prayers & Devotions, Edited by Arthur Bennett).

God’s Delays

I saw an Instagram post that basically said that sometimes delays are as much of God’s will as those things He allows and those He denies. He declared that when God makes you wait for something, either you are not ready for it or the situation is not ready for you to enter into it. The worst thing God could do is to give you what you want and the exact moment you want it the way you want it.

I’m so there. Being out of work for two months has felt like a delay. Trusting God in the middle of anxiety is difficult, but I’m learning more and more that God is faithful. Instead of pleading with God for a job, I’m thanking God in advance for the job He will provide in His own perfect timing. I’m grateful for the lessons that I can only learn in this season.

As much as I should know this by now, I need to be reminded that my identity isn’t in what I do for a living. My purpose isn’t bound up in going to a work environment for 8 hours a day. Being employed will not complete me any more than finding a spouse or anything else. I am already complete in Christ because of what He’s done for me on the cross. God still looks at me and says, “It is very good.”

God’s delays may feel like denials, but they only come because you’re not ready to receive what God is preparing for you. I don’t mean that a Maserati or a yacht or a super mansion is ready for you if you have the right amount of faith. I mean a future where you step into God’s bigger purposes for you and the world.

May we all learn to wait well and expectantly.

Holiness and Mercy

I was watching a podcast video with Andy Chrisman and Steve Camp talking about how Steve took such a bold stand in the late 90s against what was going on in the Christian music industry at the time. He also spoke about a couple of his songs related to the emerging AIDS crisis in the 80s. One phrase that stood out to me was “holiness never compromised, mercy never restrained.”

That’s the essence of the gospel. We’re never to tolerate sin in the name of mercy, but we’re also never to condemn the sinner in the name of holiness. The same Jesus that told the woman that He didn’t condemn her for her adultery also said, “Go and sin no more.”

Jesus never accommodated sinful lifestyles, but He also never withheld His love from those in those lifestyles who earnestly sought Him in their need. The message He proclaimed was not “I’m OK, you’re OK, just do the best you can” but “I’m calling you out of your sin into something better because I love you enough to want God’s best for you.”

I can’t say that I’m the best at balancing holiness and mercy. I can testify that I’m really good at looking down on sins that I don’t struggle with. I can be more permissive with my own faults than forgiving of others with theirs.

But I believe that Jesus is the one who perfectly embodies holiness and mercy as the 100% God, 100% man who is both just and the justifier. I believe in the gospel message that Jesus can change and transform anybody from anything into something holy. I’m seeing it in my own life and in so many lives of the people I know and love.

The challenge is to hold to both holiness and mercy, not pitting one against the other or elevating one at the expense of the other. We need both. Most of all, we all need Jesus.

Easter Monday

I did something new this year that will most likely be a tradition from now on. I went to see Andrew Peterson on his Resurrection Letters tour on Easter Monday. I’ve been to three of his Behold the Lamb of God concerts, but not one for Easter.

Of course it was amazing. Every part of it pointed to Jesus as the one who overcame death and the grave, the Lamb slain for the sins of the world. It helped me to once again put everything else into perspective in the light of the empty tomb.

I was captivated by the line of a song that mentioned the resurrection of daffodils in spring. That happens every year after all the trees go bare and the ground is barren during winter. Spring really is the perfect picture of the resurrection with all the flowers and buds coming back from a kind of death to full bloom.

I like spring, but I’m not a fan of all the pollen. But even that means that new life is coming, because all that pollen will germinate the seeds that will burst forth in growth and life. I think I can handle a bit of sinus overload if it means seeing the riot of colors that will follow soon after.

But all that points to the one day when those who have died in Christ will rise. All of the creation that was ruined in the fall will be restored and renewed. What seems so stressful and what keeps me up late at night won’t seem important in view of all the new life. In fact, I probably won’t remember what was causing me all of the anxiety.

Just as surely as spring follows winter, so will Jesus return in the same way He departed from the disciples.

“Is He worthy? Is He worthy?
Of all blessing and honor and glory
Is He worthy? Is He worthy?
Is He worthy of this?

He is!
Is He worthy? Is He worthy?
He is!
He is!” (Andrew Peterson/Ben Shive).

Silent Wednesday

I learned something new today. Apparently, today is significant in holy week. This is Silent Wednesday, preceding Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. From what I understand, there’s no recorded activity from this day in any of the gospels.

In my own life, I’ve learned that silence can be good. I need a break periodically from the noise. I need to create margins to hear God’s voice, and rarely will God talk over the other voices that demand my attention throughout the day.

But what if the silence is from God? What if I don’t hear anything when I listen for His voice? What then?

Do I trust in God? Do I lean into everything I’ve learned about God’s nature and character and activity up to this point? Do I choose to believe what I know about God instead of what I think or what I feel?

I see that throughout the gospels, Jesus told the disciples exactly what was about to happen. He explicitly told them all of what He was about to undergo and how it would be the end of His life. But He also said that He would rise again in three days.

But the disciples understood none of it. They didn’t get it.

Maybe the silence of God is for my benefit. Maybe I’m not ready to receive the next revelation or to know the next part of God’s plan. Maybe God is waiting on me to obey what I already know before He reveals more.

We get the benefit of history, so we know what’s coming next. Tomorrow is the day Jesus was betrayed by one of His own and handed over to the Jewish leaders. Friday is when they and the Romans put Him up on the cross with the intent to kill Him slowly. But also we know that no one took Jesus’ life from Him, but He willingly gave it up for us that we might live.

So today we remember. We reflect. We rest in the promise not only of the cross but also of the empty tomb. We can trust in a silent God. On a cellar wall in Cologne, Germany, Jews who were hiding from the Nazis wrote these words: ““I believe in the sun even when it is not shining. I believe in love even when feeling it not. I believe in God even when he is silent.”

Praying for Your Enemies

“The practical problem about charity (in our prayers) is very hard work, isn’t it? When you pray for Hitler & Stalin, how do you actually teach yourself to make the prayer real? The two things that help me are (a) A continual grasp of the idea that one is only joining one’s feeble little voice to the perpetual intercession of Christ, who died for those very men (b) A recollection, as firm as one can make it, of all one’s own cruelty wh. might have blossomed, under different conditions, into something terrible. You and I are not, at bottom, so different from these ghastly creatures” (C. S. Lewis, Letters of C. S. Lewis).

It’s one thing to pray for people who are diametrically opposed to you in their beliefs and lifestyle. It’s quite another to pray for those who are actively seeking to do you harm. I think the latter is what Jesus meant when He said to pray for your enemies.

I don’t think I could do that. At least, I know that in my own strength, I couldn’t. Only the power of the risen Christ dwelling in me could possibly love and pray for my enemies as they attack me. I believe that kind of supernatural power only comes in time of need, like it did for the disciple Stephen while he was being stoned to death with the approval of Saul. And later, it came to Saul, who now went by Paul, as he faced multiple attacks over proclaiming the death and resurrection of Jesus.

Ultimately, Jesus demonstrated praying for and loving your enemies best when He cried out to God, “Father, forgive them for they don’t know what they’re doing” as they were in the very act of murdering Him on the cross.

When I see that I am fundamentally no different than my enemies, it helps me to love them better. It helps me to see how much grace it took to save me when I’m not nearly as nice and good on my own as I had thought. It makes me that much more grateful to Jesus for saving me from me, and makes me less capable of hating anyone else.

Never Getting Beyond My Need

I was channel surfing earlier, and ran across a program called Better Together, where some speakers and authors were discussing modern idolatry and how we are all prone to it.

Basically, most of us think of idols as tiny statues made of gold or silver or wood. Most of us picture idolaters as people bowing toward some stone image that can’t possibly reciprocate.

The reality is that idolatry is taking something good, i.e. marriage, family, children, careers, success, and putting it in the place of God. It’s letting something other than God take the throne of our hearts.

The painful truth is that we are all idolaters. We have something else other than God that we put in front of God or place beside God. We never get past needing to repent our idols because our flesh craves something tangible to worship. Our flesh isn’t satisfied with God.

We will never get past our need of God because the more we grow, the more we see how far we are from the mark of God’s standard. The more we see our own faults in the light of God’s perfection and holiness. The more we understand that our good intentions rarely lead to good works.

But God is faithful even when we are not. God is faithful to His promises when we don’t keep ours to Him. God is faithful to pursue us when we so often pursue so many lesser objects instead of God. God is faithful to finish what He started in us and make us like Jesus.