Who Gets the Glory?

Yesterday morning I didn’t put the basket with the filter and coffee grounds back in the coffee pot correctly. So the water did not drip through as it should. Instead it stayed in the basket until it ran over the top!

After cleaning that up – I drank some of the coffee after straining it – I tried to make toast. I had cleaned the crumbs off the bottom of my toaster-oven, thinking that would make it work better, only to find it now only toasts on the back half of the rack. Flipped the bread over – and burned it. Ate it anyway.

Then I opened the newspaper and read where another minister has fallen prey to temptation.

I don’t know which part left the worst taste in my mouth, but I think it must have been that last bit.

And it didn’t stop there. His church has fired him and his superiors have taken away his license.

Sure, that makes sense. He sinned, sinners are not allowed to serve in that position. Right?

Well, not that kind of sinner. But are they thrown out with the trash?

I know who is rejoicing, who is jeering, who is mocking. And it’s not his brothers and sisters in Christ. Although someone said – I read it or heard it years ago – that Christians often kill their wounded.

Maybe that’s not what happening. All I know is what I read in the newspaper.

I remember vague details of an incident some years ago of a leader of a large, noted congregation who strayed and was removed from his office. But they – he and his wife and the leadership -- worked together and walked together in the midst of the body. After a while I don’t remember how long -- he was reinstated, maybe not in the position he had held, but as a fully restored brother.

It may be that a plan is in place in this instance, too, a plan for restoration and reconciliation. For healing and new life. For God to get the glory for what finally happens, even though the enemy is in the limelight for what has happened.

And isn’t that what we believe is supposed to happen?

I’m not excusing this week’s fallen minister. I’m not blaming the people saddled with the task of cleaning up the mess.

My heart goes out to all of them.

I guess I’m really just praying we will all remember that there is an enemy and remember Whose we are and how He works.

A Sinless Sinner; A Sinning Saint

A Christian is a sinless sinner and a sinning saint.

I know that sounds like a contradiction in terms, and I’m not sure I can define all that in theological terms, but let me try to explain the way it operates in my life.

Some years ago a friend told me she was really tired of all the talk about penitence and contrition, all the emphasis on how we are miserable sinners.

“I don’t feel like a miserable sinner,” she said. “I feel like someone who has been redeemed. I feel wonderful!”

I, on the other hand, while knowing I am redeemed, and offering God heartfelt thanks for that redemption, am often overcome with feelings of remorse at the state of my soul and the way I live my life.

I didn’t so much think my friend was being proud in her protestations of lack of guilt as I thought she was being blind to her own failings. I didn’t so much think I was being very humble in my admission of sin and unworthiness as I thought I was being simply honest in my evaluation of myself.

I did think I was closer to the truth than she.

Now I am not so sure.

It seems to me that if she knows she is nothing in herself – and everything in Him – then her statement reflects true humility.

My wallowing in remorse, clinging to contrition as if it were a burden I must carry forever, is a visible reminder of human pride that just simply refuses to admit I can’t possibly do anything good of myself.

Somehow I keep expecting myself to be really good – patient, kind, not envious, nor boastful, not arrogant, not rude, long-suffering and – well, you know, such a perfect person that I don’t need the divine intervention of Jesus’ death on the cross.

Now, that’s pride for you.

I’m not sure my friend has achieved the state of true humility for all time. But that’s not nearly as much of a problem, I believe, as my repeated lapses into pride.

I suspect the day may come when she will run afoul of her human nature and fail to be all her Lord expects of her. Chances are very good that she will need to recognize the failing and ask for God’s forgiveness. But if her grasp of the redemptive love of God remains, she will turn whatever it is quickly over to Him and go rejoicing on her way.

I know I can do the same thing.

For I am a sinning saint only until I ask for His forgiveness. Then I am a sinless sinner.

Silence in the Exam

The toughest thing about a tough time is God’s silence.

Have you ever noticed that just when you need Him most, He seems to disappear?

I have. It seems to me that many times when I’m in a tight place and want to ask Him a lot of questions, He isn’t there to answer them. At these times silence is the only answer to my prayers.

Well, I heard something about that silence at a conference in North Carolina recently. It filled me with joy.

What I heard was: The teacher doesn’t talk during the exam.

This means that God’s silence is NOT a sign that we have been abandoned by Him. And it isn’t a sign that He is angry with us either, or anything else like that.

It is a sign that we are going through the exam!

God’s silence is simply so I can take the test.

And that means that God is in the process of seeing – or showing me – how well I can use the truths He has been teaching me. And since God is supervising the test, I can stop worrying about the outcome and start looking into what He has already taught me for the solutions.

Imagine. The reacher doesn’t talk during the exam.

That thought still brings shivers of delight. From the moment I heard it I knew it was true.

First, I knew from my own experience as a teacher, which may have happened years ago, but is still very vivid. That IS the way things are in the world of education.

Then, suddenly, joyfully, I understood from my own experiences of being tested by God – which are neither distant nor dim – that this is the way things are in the Kingdom of Heaven as well.

I have known for a long time that God tests us. But somehow it had never crossed my mind that He would act like a teacher.

I didn’t talk to my students when I was supervising a test. And when God is giving me a test, He doesn’t talk either.

Years ago, when I was a classroom teacher and was giving a test, I wouldn’t respond to questions about the test itself or give clues to the answer. Oh, I might give instructions or say something like, “You have 20 minutes to complete this section,” but nothing more.

I wasn’t being hard on them or mean. I knew I had covered in class the material included in the test. I knew that if my students had been paying attention during class and had done their homework, they would know the answers. All they had to do was use what they already knew and they would pass the test.

The same thing is true for God’s tests.

God does all the human teacher does – and does it better. He teaches us what we need to know for our course – whether you call it discipleship, being shaped into the image of His Son or learning to live like Jesus.

His textbooks are the Bible, the wise words of those who know and walk with Him and the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit. Our classroom is the world.

Then, every so often, He tests us. And we either pass or fail the test.

We may not like them, but tests are necessary.

Tests show the students – and the disciples – how well they have mastered the material being covered in the course. They also make clear what has not yet been learned and must be gone over again.

Of course, God always forgives us when we fail a test.

I’ve known that ever since I knew anything about Him. What I do not always remember – at least not well enough to live my life by it – is that He wants more than repeated failure and forgiveness. He desires our growth in understanding and skill in discipleship.

God forgives. But He does not stop there. He is teaching us how to live in he Kingdom so He isn’t about to let us off with simply being sorry for failing the same test over and over again. He has provided for something more.

Even if we pass the test, He will re-test and re-test.

The reason He does is because He wants obedience. He wants us to do what He has told us to do.

Not to gain salvation. To show we love Him, to make us like Him, to set us free to enjoy the resurrection now.

I have to confess that I have usually had a very negative emotional response to God’s silences. I have felt alternately afraid and angry, as if He had betrayed me or abandoned me, leaving me to face the pain, loneliness, shame or sorrow all by myself.

Now I will try to remember that the teacher does not talk during the exam.

With that in mind, I should be able to see my test failures simply as missed opportunities for obedience and not as proof of my unteachable character. Then I should be much more willing to get up and try again.

A Blank Mind

This blank screen accurately reflects my mind.

There is nothing in it.

Oh, well. This is not a first. It happens. Oftener than I like.

So If I can’t think of anything to say, I’ll try singing a song someone else thought of.

Morning has broken
Like the first morning.
Blackbird has spoken
Like the first bird
Praise for the singing
Praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the word.

Sweet the rain’s new fall
On the wet garden
Like the first dew fall
On the first grass
Praise for the sweetness
Of the fresh garden
Sprung in completeness where His feet pass

Mine is the singing
Mine is the morning
Born of the One light
Eden say play
Praise with elation
Praise every morning
God’s recreation of the new day.

OK. That’s a little better. It’s not MY thought, but it’s a thought I can borrow.

And as another song says, It’s not about me. It’s all about You, Jesus.

I know God is not surprised at my numb state. That second song also says something about the fact that He looks much deeper within, past the way things appear. You’re looking deep in my heart.

If you know that song and I’ve not said it properly, I’m sorry. It’s the best I can do right now.

Probably God doesn’t mind. He has looked deep in my heart before and somehow, He hasn’t rejected me for what He has found there.

And I’m at least trying to sing my way into His presence. Which is silly, because He is always here.

Ah, but I’m not always here with Him.

So I’ll bring You, Lord, someone else’s song and my blank mind. As I said, it’s the best I can do right now.

Messenger in Blue

I am down-sizing from a four drawer file cabinet to a two drawer file cabinet, which involves looking at every paper I have filed in the past who-knows-how-long.

I keep saying, What in the world was I saving this for?

In the process, I found something I wrote back in 1980. I share it here.

If I hadn’t promised myself and my Lord to be honest in these columns, I sure wouldn’t be writing this one now. But this is about being honest with myself and Him, so I might as well get on with it.

I committed a moving violation (in my car) last week – and was caught – instantly.

I’m fairly sure the polite man in blue who wrote my citation was not aware he was acting as an instrument of the Holy Spirit, but I’m more than fairly sure he was.

Three years ago the Lord taught me about obedience by teaching me to obey the civil law, such as driving within the speed limit. Since then I have tried to be faithful to Him, not just obeying the law, but being obedient to the leadings of His Spirit.

This week I broke the law, lied to myself, disobeyed Him – and He still loves me.

When I found myself at the end of a long line of traffic waiting to go straight through an intersection – and I wanted to turn right – I broke the law. I created a “right turn lane” that wasn’t there by driving through the parking lot of a business firm.

That’s a legal no-no.

In this instance, it was worse than that. It was an occasion for spiritual disobedience.

The spiritual fault lay in deceiving myself, in telling myself it wasn’t really wrong since the parking lot was large, almost like a road, and I wasn’t getting in any one’s way.

I lied to myself. I knew it wasn’t right, but I ignored the small voice that said to wait patiently in line.

That is why, after a moment of shock, I recognized the policeman as the grace of God in action.

How wonderful my Lord is to point out my fault so quickly.

Jesus did not allow me to turn away from Him, to stay with my self-deception. I was called quickly to repentance, confession and reconciliation.

I cannot lie to myself and stay with Him. I can be – and was – forgiven. That is His promise, His gift to me.

The moving violation cost me $25.

But it was a small price to pay, isn’t it, for a reminder that my Lord is with me and wants me to be perfect. Think of the price Jesus paid when He reconciled me to God, when He made that forgiveness possible.

Twenty-seven years and I’m still thankful for my angelic messenger in blue – and my Lord.

Practice, Practice, Practice

I took piano lessons for four years, but I never learned to play. Unfortunately what I did was take first year piano lessons four times – with long intervals in between.

Now I love to sing and can read music fairly well when singing, but I’m no musician. My left hand never knows what my right hand is doing – especially when they need to be doing it together.

The problem is lack of self discipline and practice.

Life is like that. If we want to do something well, even something that comes easily to us, we must practice. Something that doesn’t come easily takes a lot more practice.

Being Christ-like definitely comes in the latter category.

It doesn’t come naturally and it doesn’t come easily.

The power to mature in the faith is freely given, but the ability to let the Spirit use that power in our lives requires hard work.

If that sounds like a paradox, it should. It is a paradox. How can something be free but “cost” a lot? All I can say is that’s the way God seems to work, or that’s the best we can do now in understanding Him.

It is a paradox that it requires both surrender and self-control of our wills. I can’t make myself a more mature Christian, only the Spirit can do that. But I can let it happen and that takes a conscious act of my will. I must work to control my will so I can surrender it.

And that involves practice – daily, regular, voluntary and planned.

All the small decisions I make every day are my practice sessions. Each time I consciously exercise my will to surrender it to Him, I strengthen the muscles I use in making Christ-like decisions.

When I feel anger rise in me at a rude shopper in the grocery store, or when I see a chance to break in at the check-out counter ahead of another person with a full basket – and I consciously reject anger as the director of my actions and I refuse to yield to my selfish impulse, I have surrendered my will to His is small ways.

Then, when a really hard one comes along, my “surrender” muscles may be strong enough to make that surrender possible.

I would like to be able to say that eventually, with enough practice, I would get so proficient at being mature like Jesus that I could expect the right muscles to respond in every situation. My reading of Scripture, especially Paul’s letters, indicates it won’t ever get that easy.

But it is worth the full-time, life-long effort, for that’s how I became a child who glorifies my Father’s name and His good and faithful servant.

Practice, Practice, Practice

I took piano lessons for four years, but I never learned to play. Unfortunately what I did was take first year piano lessons four times – with long intervals in between.

Now I love to sing and can read music fairly well when singing, but I’m no musician. My left hand never knows what my right hand is doing – especially when they need to be doing it together.

The problem is lack of self discipline and practice.

Life is like that. If we want to do something well, even something that comes easily to us, we must practice. Something that doesn’t come easily takes a lot more practice.

Being Christ-like definitely comes in the latter category.

It doesn’t come naturally and it doesn’t come easily.

The power to mature in the faith is freely given, but the ability to let the Spirit use that power in our lives requires hard work.

If that sounds like a paradox, it should. It is a paradox. How can something be free but “cost” a lot? All I can say is that’s the way God seems to work, or that’s the best we can do now in understanding Him.

It is a paradox that it requires both surrender and self-control of our wills. I can’t make myself a more mature Christian, only the Spirit can do that. But I can let it happen and that takes a conscious act of my will. I must work to control my will so I can surrender it.

And that involves practice – daily, regular, voluntary and planned.

All the small decisions I make every day are my practice sessions. Each time I consciously exercise my will to surrender it to Him, I strengthen the muscles I use in making Christ-like decisions.

When I feel anger rise in me at a rude shopper in the grocery store, or when I see a chance to break in at the check-out counter ahead of another person with a full basket – and I consciously reject anger as the director of my actions and I refuse to yield to my selfish impulse, I have surrendered my will to His is small ways.

Then, when a really hard one comes along, my “surrender” muscles may be strong enough to make that surrender possible.

I would like to be able to say that eventually, with enough practice, I would get so proficient at being mature like Jesus that I could expect the right muscles to respond in every situation. My reading of Scripture, especially Paul’s letters, indicates it won’t ever get that easy.

But it is worth the full-time, life-long effort, for that’s how I became a child who glorifies my Father’s name and His good and faithful servant.