The Missing Piece of the Puzzle to Our Own Self-Awareness
The Psalmist cries out to God by making a bold and daring plea. He begs him to search his heart, to try him by putting him to the test. He calls for God to know his own motives, whether they are true of false (Ps. 139:23-24). Such a request, if honest to its core, exposes the person before God. Such a petition not only bears oneself to God, but to his/her own self as well.
The ability to evaluate ourselves, opening and honestly, is a skill underdeveloped in so many. Are we really in touch with our own feelings, motives and agendas? Probably not. We hide them. We cover them up. We shield them from attacks. Defensively, we divert attention from ourselves by finger pointing at others. Self-awareness is not one of our best qualities.
At the end of the Sermon on the Mount (Mt. 5-7), Jesus shares a judgment scene with his listeners. Many on that day will believe they’re in step with God’s will since they prophesied, drove out demons and performed multiple miracles. Yet, God will claim he never knew them, casting them out by labeling them as “evil doers” (Mt. 7:21-23). The tension between what these people were doing versus who they were is felt like the buzz sensation of touching a hot wire. How could one be so right and so wrong at the same time? A lack of self-awareness may be the key.
As if Matthew 7 was foreshadowing a second judgment scene, Jesus depicts this one in chapter 25 with a twist. Here he divides everyone into two groups. The group he calls “sheep” are the ones who responded to his needs when they encountered him, while the one he calls “goats” ignored his plight. While neither group recognized his presence, for surely if we saw Jesus they’d (or we’d) respond to his needs, Jesus said, “Whatever you did for the least of these you did for me” (Mt. 25:40,45). While the so-called “sheep” and the “goats” were unaware of the spiritual ramifications for their actions or lack thereof, their response to the needs before them is rooted in their own self-awareness. One group was willing to think of those living without and to try and fill those needs, while the others only selfishly thought of themselves. They were blinded by and unaware of their own self-centeredness.
We have an impression of ourselves, which doesn’t always line up with how others view us and rarely lines up with God’s perception of us. Time and time again, the Scripture calls for introspection and to become aware of our own self. Jesus tells about the two men who went up to the temple to pray (Lk. 18:9-14). One was very aware of his sin, while the other’s self-awareness was almost nil. When Peter boldly proclaimed that he’d go to the cross with Jesus, his own lack of self-awareness was confronted by Jesus’ prophecy of denying him that very night (Lk. 22:33-34). The rub of the Pharisees and teachers of the law (Lk. 15:1) that Jesus’ was willingly welcoming and eating with the “sinners” demonstrates how they lack such self-awareness (i.e. were they themselves without sin?).
We see it today. A piece of the puzzle is missing, and everyone notices except the person with the puzzle. Spoken words and body language convey either arrogance and pride or self-pity. We attack other positions and territory with fierceness while glossing over or ignoring our very own positions and territory. We cut in line. We’re rude to the waitress. We refuse to comply with simple instructions all while losing respect from our peers. And only God knows what goes through his mind.
On more than one occasion I have spoken to my children, and even to Cile, in harsh tones. While I thought I was simply communicating information, before Cile interrupts me to simply ask, “Can you hear the tone of your voice right now?” The fact is, I’m very self-unaware of how I carry myself and the messages I send. And the truth be known, so are you.
Scripture speaks to awakening our self-awareness, though not all in one place. Paul tells the Philippians to strip away the pretense by avoiding selfish ambition or vain conceit, and then to consider others better than their-self (Phil. 2:3). James tells us that we have two ears and one mouth for a reason (Jas. 1:19-20), so try doing more active listening (to understand) and less talking (to make others understand). Jesus warns about adopting the pagan/Gentile form of leadership which is to exercise power and authority over people (Mk. 10:42). Instead, he tells us to serve the ones “below us,” for Jesus modeled such behavior even willing to give up his own life (Mk. 10:43-45).
Self-awareness may very well be a spiritual trait. The ability to view one’s self with a proper and biblical perspective shows maturity, the kind of which God honors. And ultimately, only God’s perspective matters, which is something to be self-aware of.
Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)
Despair: Feeling the Sentence of Death
Despair can lead a person to dark places, to a deep hole cut off from daylight and feeling the warmth of the sun. In its chilly, damp pit hope is lost. And some who find themselves in such a place feel abandoned as death is a welcomed alternative to living.
Sometimes we find ourselves in despair and without hope because we’re susceptible to anxiety and depression. Many of us fight those battles on a regular basis, and in battle fatigue our inner self cry out from the pit. Other times we find ourselves disoriented because circumstances beyond our control rip apart our world. We thought we were in control of our own destiny until “destiny” took control of us. A job loss, a diagnosed illness, a betrayal of a friend, a pandemic. Any of these, and more, can strip away hope, layer by layer, leaving you in the depths of despair.
While we suffer, we tell ourselves that those who are more spiritual and are grounded firmly in faith never had to endure what the common folk endure. They’re immune. They’re exempt from suffering. The spiritual waters run so deep that pain never penetrates those fathoms. Or maybe their pedestal stands above the agony.
Enter the Apostle Paul, maybe one of the most important leaders of the early church. Because most of his letters survived, he has shaped so much of the church’s belief system (i.e., theology). Because he’s an apostle who received visions from Jesus and planted churches all over the Mediterranean, we’ve glossed over much of who he really was. And what was he? He was a wounded warrior, just like us.
When God called him, he wanted Paul to know that his calling meant suffering for the name of Jesus (Act. 9:16). Not just a little suffering, but enough to feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. Paul’s affliction list in 2 Corinthians 11 is more than a simple list of what he’s endured. He wears his suffering proudly against those who are shamed for what they never endure. Its evidence that he’s nothing more than a broken clay pot held together by the grace and mercy of God (2 Cor. 4:7-12; 12:7-10). God does not reject Paul because he suffers. No. He embraces Paul through his suffering.
Held together by God doesn’t exempt an apostle from feelings of despair. Thus, Paul informs the Corinthians of what unfolded while he was in Asia. While he avoids the details, he’s specific about his emotions. He endured hardship and suffered. The pressure was so great that he despaired even of life (2 Cor. 1:8-9). Whatever Paul was facing, the burden was so excessive he wanted out. Like an inmate on death row, he lost all his appeals.
But God. But God who raises the dead. But God who raises the dead delivered him from his own death (2 Cor. 1:9-10). God delivered again, and he delivered big. And Paul interpreted this salvation as a reminder to stop relying on our self and keep relying on God (2 Cor. 1:9b). Coming full circle, not only is the Apostle Paul facing suffering, but his ministry is defined by suffering, even though he nearly buckled under the pressure. In part, because even Paul, like us, tended to trust his own abilities rather than trust God.
So here we are, for many of us, sitting in the midst of despair. It’s a dark place, so dark that daylight and the warmth of the sun cannot penetrate where you sit. And you feel alone. All alone. Chilled in a damp hole. Maybe you find yourself in the pit because life throws every dirty play against you. Or maybe you find yourself in the pit because a pandemic has inflamed your worst fears. An uncontrollable disease has the power to undermine an economy (i.e., your economy) while fueling more civil unrest.
Sure, we could give up and walk away. Others have done it. But we won’t. And instead of leaning into it, we take Paul’s advice and lean onto him. While we’re sitting in the pit, we keep relying and trusting God. We trust the God who raises the dead, because what else have you to do anyway?
Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)
A Calming Presence
CHURCH: The Gates of Hades
Peter’s confession of Jesus is a pivotal moment in Matthew’s gospel (Mt. 16:13-20). Prior to the confession, Jesus was tight lipped about his mission. After Peter’s declaration statement, Jesus begins opening up about his suffering and death at the hands of the Jewish religious leaders. Peter’s confession is essential to understanding Jesus’ mission.
Jesus and the twelve find themselves in Gentile territory, named after Augustus Caesar and originally named for the god, Pan. By the time of Jesus, the area retained its tribute name to Caesar but Philip of Macedon is given nod as well. Our Bibles says they were in Caesarea Philippi. Here, in a culture committed to Roman rule and paganism, Jesus pins his twelve disciples down on his identity. Peter’s response, speaking for the others and hopefully for us, is clear and decisive. “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God” (16:16).
Two statements emerge from Peter’s confession. First, he calls Jesus the Christ. The Greek version of the Hebrew word, Messiah, which carries far more punch. Messiah means, “the Anointed One,” and the Messianic overtones are obvious. Jesus is the coming Messiah whom Scripture predicted and confirmed. Secondly, he calls Jesus, the Son of God. While the phrase has divine implications, Peter underscores that God is a living God, not dead. Thus, Peter’s confession holds both theological and political ramifications: Jesus is the Divine King, not Caesar.
Beyond his prediction that he is headed to Jerusalem to suffer (16:21), Jesus makes statements that have baffled Bible students and scholars for centuries. What is Peter’s role in the development of the church, and why has he been given the keys of the kingdom? What is the meaning of “church”? Is it an assembly or an organization?
The more important question is his mixing of metaphors in regards to the gate (16:18), “. . . and the gates of Hades/hell will not overcome it.” Gates are for defensive purposes and do not for attacking. They mark off territorial boundaries. They intimidate their opponent, stand still and cannot move. How will gates even try to “overcome” God’s church? Also, are these the gates of Hades (NIV) or the gates of hell (KJV)? While Hades was the place of the dead with no evil intent, hell is always associated with a place to punish evil doers. The NIV maintains the Greek, while the KJV interprets Hades as a place of evil. But the “place of the dead” or a “place of death” contextually seems better to understand Matthew 16:18 than a place where evil is punished. The NIV is probably correct with “Hades” because the theme of death begins to unfold.
For the first time in Matthew’s gospel Jesus explicitly tells his twelve disciples about his forthcoming suffering and death in Jerusalem (16:21). When that happens, the story looks to end and the movement will die. Without its shepherd, the people will scatter like sheep. But death will not be the final say with Jesus. He will overcome. While the tomb will be sealed, he’ll break that seal and the stone will roll away. Death will not hold him captive.
As the disciples move forward in a post-ascension world, they will face their own suffering, and each of them, minus John, will be horrifically executed for following Jesus. The church itself will endure the full onslaught of persecution. “Murderous threats” (Act. 9:1) not only sounds ominous, but accurately describe what discipleship meant. The exhortation, “be faithful till death” (Rev. 2:10b) wasn’t a warm fuzzy motto or cheesy bumper sticker, but a stark reminder of the total cost of confessing, “Jesus is Lord.”
Death has a way of not only disrupting our lives, but also disrupting our churches. When someone dies, even of “natural causes,” we question the church’s future and stability. How will we survive without them? How do we move forward without them? In a context of persecution, lives are on the line. Increased anxiety is felt like a 7.5 tremor on the Richter scale. Jesus’ words assure his followers that death will not be the final say in the church’s future. And in a time when so much uncertainty has gripped people in fear, Jesus’ words bring reassurance. Not even the gates of death will overcome his church.
Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)
Looking for a Sign
Happiness, a Puppy and a Warm Blanket
How do you bring peace and find happiness in a world filled with terror and sorrow? I guess if you can answer that question, you’ll have solved most of the world’s problems. Both Charlie Brown and Linus landed on one possible solution. They believed that if every child was issued a banjo and a puppy at birth, then everyone would find happiness. The logic is sound. A banjo is not known for playing a sad song, and puppies are anything but depressing.
Happiness may very well be at the core of Schultz’s Peanuts Gang. The theme of happiness was not only the title of a book and multiple “Happiness Is” moments, but each character might have been seeking their own form of happiness.
Charlie Brown might say that happiness is a loyal dog, which he may or may not have owned. Linus might say that happiness is a warm blanket, which was made into a movie based on numerous Schultz strips. Schroeder might say that happiness is playing Beethoven on his toy piano, undisturbed. Peppermint Patty might say that happiness is scoring higher than a D- without needing to study. Marcy might say that happiness is reading a good book. Sally might say that happiness is found in the love of her “Sweet Baboo,” (cue Linus off screen, “I’m not her Sweet Baboo!”). And Lucy might say that happiness is . . . well, she’s crabby and bossy, and I don’t think she was chasing happiness.
The pursuit of “happiness” may very well be woven, not only throughout the fabric of the Peanuts Gang, but throughout the fabric of the American conscience. In the infancy of our nation, Thomas Jefferson, via the Declaration of Independence, penned that pursuing happiness was not only one of our freedoms, but a divine right.
Pursuing “happiness” has driven people to make choices where recreation and entertainment has taken priority in our society. People live for the weekend, as the build-up for Friday night begins early and the drudgery of Monday morning sets in. Many have their weekend get-a-ways, their boats, their campers, and their adventures all ready to go. The movie industry appears as healthy as ever, while sports programs are being fueled by fan loyalty. Everybody’s happy.
Everybody’s happy except for those struggling with chronic pain and depression, and that pretty much sums up our society. Anti-depressant medicine is common place. And, according to Sam Quinones, part of the opioid crises began when people were engaging in happiness without the pain (Dreamland, 35). One wonders where the other option is? One wonders when faithfulness kicks in (Rev. 2:10)?
Instead of focusing on happiness, we should turn our attention to joy. Happiness and joy are far from synonyms. Happiness tends to focus on the external, while joy tends to resonate from within. When we speak of wanting to be happy, the focus is generally on something outside of us that makes us happy: a new car, a relationship, a job promotion, a baby, or the latest toy. Our very words betray our belief, “this new item has made me happy.” The irony of course is that the new car demands maintenance and eventually breaks down; the relationship gets challenged or breaks up; the job promotion comes with more stress and responsibility; the baby wants fed or changed at 2:00 in the morning, and turns into a toddler who challenges parental authority; the latest toy immediately becomes obsolete and/or needs an upgrade. Even worse, more than one person has justified sinful and immoral behavior by claiming that God just wants them to be happy.
Where happiness tends to be motivated by the external, joy emits from within and arises in spite of external circumstances. Two examples from the Bible easily emerge when joy overrides happiness. First, we find joy listed as one of the Fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 3:25), and is in fact listed first after love. When the Spirit is active in a person’s life, joy will be present regardless of what a person is facing. Secondly, James tells us that when we face a variety of trials, we should face it with joy (Jas. 1:2). James is certainly not a sadomasochist, but is pointing out that joy does not need external circumstances to radiate; more so, that joy can emit in spite of the situation a Christian is facing. Thus, after Paul and Silas were falsely accused, arrested, beaten and flogged, and then chained and locked up in jail, we don’t find them in pity or in anger. We don’t find them bemoaning their circumstance or questioning why they were suffering. We find them praising God (Act. 16:25). We find joy.
While I was writing this chapter, I received an encouraging note from a former member of the church where I preached. I was in that difficult transitional state where I had resigned from the church but was still preaching before I found a place. Not knowing any of the details for resigning, she shared with me her shock through Instant Message via FaceBook. Without wanting to know the details, she shared how much of a difference my ministry had made in her life. Her encouragement lifted my day. Even more so to know that my friend is bedridden with an undiagnosed paralyzing disease she’s battled for nearly twenty years. Unable to get up and go anywhere she wants, how easy for her to slip into self-pity and anger. Instead, a joy burns strong within her, and she was more concerned for my needs instead of her own well-being.
I suppose that one can find happiness if he or she is given a warm blanket and puppy; and I’m pretty sure some people get excited if they’re given a banjo. But the blanket will wear out, the puppy will need to be potty-trained, and the banjo’s strings will eventually break. Maybe that’s why joy is God-given and God-driven, because you can experience joy even if you don’t have a puppy or a warm blanket.
bonum dolar!
(e.g., Good Grief!)
Cashing the Big Check
CHURCH: We’ll Need A Bigger Boat
I’m not much of a sea-faring sailor. I’ve done some waterskiing. Some. I once took a ferry across the Puget Sound on the way to British Columbia (my brother got sea-sick). A family trip once involved boating down the Willamette River from Oregon City to downtown Portland and back again. I can’t say I’ve ever been on the high seas or in a ship. I haven’t even been to the Ark museum.
Though lacking sea-faring experience, like you, I’ve been exposed to many sea-worthy passages in the Bible. A flood of epic proportions is experienced when telling the Noah story. Repentance is themed throughout the rebellious Jonah story (talk about the one that got away!). And Jesus walking on the water like he’s walking across the living room floor is gripping in and of itself.
But one Biblical story has somehow gotten lost in the deluge of sea-worthy stories. The moment takes place in Acts 27 when Paul is making his way to Rome to face a hearing before Caesar. In short, the ship Paul had boarded was secure in a port in Fair Havens on the island of Crete. But the harbor was not suitable for winterizing. The weather had already turned against them, making travel dangerous while delaying their progress. A better harbor in Phoenix was only fifty miles (plus/minus) around Crete. Hovering the shoreline, surely they could reach the port until spring.
Paul, maybe the smartest guy in the room, stood and spoke against that idea (Act. 27:10). But he was neither a sailor nor sea worthy. The captain and owner of the ship ignored his advice and set sails to Phoenix. Then the wheels fell off the train.
What started as a gentle wind turned into hurricane-like conditions (Act. 27:13-14). The storm took hold of the ship and pushed them off course. Way. Off. Course. Two weeks in the open seas forced the 276 people on board to were exposed and at risk. Tackle and other items were thrown overboard to lighten the load. Fear of the storm gave way to fear for running aground and being dashed against the rocks. The ship was all but torn apart.
In the middle of the dangerous chaos, two moments stand out in the Acts 27 narrative. First, Paul warns those wanting to abandon ship will be lost unless they stay on board (27:30-32). Logic and protocol told them to lower lifeboats and get away from the (potentially) sinking vessel. It looked like a losing battle. But the man who warned them against taking the trip to begin with warned them again. “Only those staying with the ship will be saved” (v. 31). In an act of faith, the sailors cut the ropes to the lifeboats and remained on board. True to Paul’s word, no one was lost even though the ship was eventually torn apart.
Secondly, having forsaken their meals for rationed survival, Paul encouraged them to eat in order to renew their strength (v. 33-34). They weren’t out of the storm yet, but were needing nourishment. But as Luke describes the meal, he frames it with Lord’s Supper language, “. . . he took bread and gave thanks to God in front of them all. Then he broke it and began to eat” (v. 35). Obviously, they were not taking the Lord’s Supper, but the Lord was present at this meal because he kept them safe. Thus, the Lord’s Supper hovered over this meal they were eating. And as Luke tells us, “they were all encouraged” (v. 36).
As I reflect on 2020 and the hurricane-like storm that the church has been enduring, I can’t help but believe that Paul’s words are still ringing true today. First, fear forces us to abandon ship and in this case ship is our local church/congregation. Church is far more than a building; it’s the people who fill that building. We’re connected, bonded and committed to each another. And when we cannot be together in person, the temptation to abandon any connection intensifies. If we’re meeting with social distancing protocols in place, we meet and follow the rules. If we’re only online, then we step into the online presence. But the rest of the week, we check in with our brothers and sisters to ensure they’re still safely aboard for the worst mistake to make is abandoning ship. Let’s ride this storm out, together.
Secondly, stay nourished. As we’re continuing to meet together (in person or online), celebrate the Lord’s Supper and allow it to be the focal point of the assembly. Like attendance, when life gets hard or feelings of failure surface, abandoning the Supper is an easy step to make. Instead, like famished people, we should run to the Table for Jesus makes his presence known at the Supper.
When “all hands are on deck” and “we batten down the hatches,” we’ll find that God will keep us safe and secure through the storm. When others see the presence of God in the midst of this storm, they’ll want to join us. And when they do, we’ll need a bigger boat.
Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)