Reflections on spiritual themes (and a few other things).

Tag: Faith

Just Ask

“What do you want me to do for you?” 

And he said, “Lord, I want to regain my sight!”

Luke 18.41

Sometimes, the most obvious questions are the ones we never ask. Perhaps we think the questions are too obvious, the issues too mundane, or ourselves too unworthy of an answer. So the questions go unasked.

It’s not wrong for us to ask things, even of God. James said sometimes our problems come when we want something but never ask (James 4.2). When anxious we must bring our requests to God (Philippians 4.6). We’re assured that He hears our requests (John 16.23-24; 1 John 4.21-22).

The text from which the quotation is taken (Luke 18.18-43) gives a third account of Jesus healing the blind at Jericho (cf. Matthew 20.29-34; Mark 10.46-52). Comparing the three accounts shows that there were two blind beggars at the edge of town. They spoke with Jesus as he was leaving town, though Luke’s account mentions only the one beggar.

There’s a certain humor in the exchange. The beggar was visually impaired, but not vocally impaired (v. 38-39), and persistently called to Jesus. When he summoned the beggar, Jesus asked, “What do you want?” He had to ask?

The beggar gave a direct reply, “I want to see.” His request was as obvious as his condition.

In his comments on Mark’s parallel account, William Barclay notes: “He knew precisely what he wanted – his sight. Too often our admiration for Jesus is a vague attraction… When we go to the dentist we do not ask him to extract any tooth, but the one that is diseased. It should be so with us and Jesus. And that involves the one thing that so few people wish to face – self-examination.”

The problem is never that God doesn’t know what we want or need. Very often, we don’t know.

What is it that you want? Have you asked God specifically for that? 

Just ask.

Look Up!

Have you ever noticed that we humans hang our heads when we’re sad, guilty, or when we feel defeated? I’m not sure why we do it. It’s such a universal response that it’s likely innate and reflexive. When children are punished or shamed, they hang their heads. When adults are humiliated or when the burden of the world is on their shoulders, they hang their heads. Job equated it with misery and disgrace: “If I am wicked, woe to me! And if I am righteous, I dare not lift up my head. I am sated with disgrace and conscious of my misery” (Job 10.15). 

Sometimes we probably SHOULD hang our heads. We sometimes do things that are less than noble or from less than noble motives. If we’ve treated others with dishonor; if we ourselves have acted ignobly; if we’re in the wrong — then bobble-heads we should be!

But thankfully, God can restore our dignity and worth. In Psalm 3.3, David declares, “But You, O LORD, are a shield about me, My glory, and the One who lifts my head.” 

According to the inscription at the beginning of this psalm, David wrote this while fleeing from his son Absalom. Absalom rebelled against David and temporarily drove him from the throne and Jerusalem (2 Samuel 15-19). The psalm begins with a declaration by David that his adversaries abound. But despite their threats, he has the assurance of God’s past deliverances and the promise of future security. It’s in this context that David makes the declaration of trust in verse three. Lifting the head symbolized victory over one’s enemies (Psalm 27.6), and here, the restoration of dignity and place. 

If you’re hanging your head because of mistakes you’ve made, lift up your head, for there is forgiveness. If you’re hanging your head because your circumstances weigh heavily upon you, lift up your head, for there is hope. If you’re hanging your head because you’re not sure of your worth to God, lift up your head, for there is assurance.

No matter where you are in your life, no matter what your circumstances, look up!

Facing Goliath

The human capacity for worry is staggering. We worry about money. We worry about relationships. We worry about our health. We worry about our city and country. We worry about crime, inflation, politics, racism, ageism, and gender discrimination. We worry about children, our spouses, our parents, and our pets. We worry about pretty much everything. 

More specifically, much of our anxiety is about the unknown. We worry because we don’t know the outcome. We worry about what will happen to our money and health and marriages and children and country. And we wonder if the struggle is worth it.

I have a simple solution.

Recall the story of David and Goliath. In 1 Samuel 17, the Israelites and Philistines are in a stalemate. The Philistines have challenged Israel to a winner-takes-all contest between their champion warrior Goliath, and whomever the Israelites could send. Nobody from Israel is willing to fight. That is, until David shows up.

Imagine if this were a modern basketball game. It’s late in the second half. The score is tied, but momentum has shifted to the visiting team. All the home team starters have fouled out, and their superstar center is dominating the game. Only one player is left, the shortest man on the team with the least experience. Who thinks it’s a good idea to send him in? 

But remember David’s words as he faced the giant from Gath – “The battle is the Lord’s” (1 Samuel 17.47). He wasn’t worried about the specifics; he wasn’t worried about the struggle. He knew up front that God would determine the outcome. That gave him the assurance he needed to enter the fray, to fight the battle, to persevere in conflict, and to remain true to his calling. 

Oh, and he also won the battle.

Rather than being afraid of what might happen, rather than expecting the worst possible outcome, we should adopt David’s strategy. Do what we can and let God decide the outcome. 

For today and every day remember that “the battle is the Lord’s”.

Not What But Whom

You’ve probably heard the old business adage that when it comes to finding a good job, it’s not what you know but whom. You’ve probably known talented, motivated, and honest workers who didn’t have especially good jobs, largely because they weren’t well-connected. On the other hand, you’ve probably known workers who weren’t talented, motivated, or honest, but who had great jobs because Uncle Bob owned the business, or because Daddy knew the CEO.

Before we decry this as being unfair, let’s apply this to our spiritual lives. Is our salvation because of our talents, hard work, motivation, and skillset? Or is it because of something else? Is it because we know Someone?

Near the end of his life, the apostle Paul wrote, “for I know whom I have believed and I am convinced that He is able to guard what I have entrusted to Him until that day” (2 Timothy 1.12). He doesn’t say “I know WHAT I have believed”, but “WHOM I have believed”. 

Paul wasn’t discounting WHAT he believed, he wasn’t discounting doctrine. In fact, in the letters to Timothy and Titus, he repeatedly emphasizes teaching and believing “sound” (healthy) words and doctrine (cf. 1 Timothy 1.10; 6.3; 2 Timothy 1.13; 4.3; Titus 1.9, 13; 2.1). WHAT we believe is vitally important.

But as Paul approached death, he wasn’t thinking about SOMETHING, but SOMEONE. Someone who knew Paul better than he knew himself. Someone who had never deserted Paul. Someone whose promises and plans would ultimately prevail. 

Paul had entrusted his work, his plans, and his life to God. He says in this text that God would guard whatever Paul had given him for safekeeping. It would be safe until the day that Christ returned to reward his people. For Paul, knowing his redeemer was the ultimate reality (Philippians 3.7-11). Nor was it simply knowing facts about God but knowing him relationally and intimately. 

For Christians, it’s not about what you know but whom you know. Do you know Christ?

Abba! Father!

There are few words in our language that express as much emotional range as the word “Daddy”. On the lips of a child, it may express love, fear, panic, joy, anger, needs, sickness, or pain. We use it to express both intimacy and distance, respect and contempt, love and hate.

In Jewish culture their word for “father” was “abba” and expressed a similar range of feeling. It was used by both children and adults. It was one of the first words a child learned. 

It shouldn’t surprise us then that one of the primary biblical metaphors for God is that of a father. “Because you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!” (Galatians 4.6)

The idea of God as a father originates in the Old Testament. Some twenty times he’s either called a father (fourteen times), compared to a father (four times), or he calls Israel his son (two times). The emphasis of this metaphor is upon God as the father of the nation of Israel. It’s not used to express a personal, individual relationship, but a corporate one.

God is our father because he created us. “Do we not all have one father? Has not one God created us?” (Malachi 2.10a) God is the father of Israel. “Then you shall say to Pharaoh, ‘Thus says the LORD, “Israel is My son, My firstborn” (Exodus 4.22). God is the father of the king. “He will cry to Me, ‘You are my Father, My God, and the rock of my salvation.’ I also shall make him My firstborn, The highest of the kings of the earth” (Psalm 89.26-27). 

As a father, God is first and foremost an authority figure. “‘A son honors his father, and a servant his master. Then if I am a father, where is My honor? And if I am a master, where is My respect?’ says the LORD of hosts to you, O priests who despise My name” (Malachi 1.6). But as a father, he also shows tender compassion to his children. “Just as a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear Him. For He Himself knows our frame; He is mindful that we are but dust” (Psalm 103.13-14). Because of this unique combination of authority and compassion, we see God as the one who forgives our sins. “‘Is Ephraim My dear son? Is he a delightful child? Indeed, as often as I have spoken against him, I certainly still remember him; therefore My heart yearns for him; I will surely have mercy on him,’ declares the LORD” (Jeremiah 31.20).

This picture of God as a father only deepens when we get to the New Testament. Here, Jesus refers to God as his father about 140 times, and God is presented as the father of believers about 50 times. The basic concepts are still there, but in a much fuller sense because of Jesus who revealed the Father in himself. “No one has seen God at any time; the only begotten God who is in the bosom of the Father, He has explained Him” (John 1.18).

Jesus taught his disciples, and us, to pray to God our Father. He’s not a distant, unconcerned deity, but a loving father who cares for the needs of his children. It’s here in the New Testament, especially in prayer, that we see a much more personal and intimate view of God as our Father. “So do not be like [the pagans]; for your Father knows what you need before you ask Him. Pray, then, in this way: ‘Our Father who is in heaven, hallowed be Your name’” (Matthew 6.8-9). God knows what we need before we even ask, yet he still wants us to ask.

Praying to God as our Father teaches us dependence upon him. “Jesus then said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, it is not Moses who has given you the bread out of heaven, but it is My Father who gives you the true bread out of heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down out of heaven, and gives life to the world” (John 6.32-33). The bread of which Jesus spoke was himself and the eternal life he gave to us by giving himself on the cross. We depend upon our Father to provide all that we need, including life itself, both physical and spiritual.

But if we call God our Father, that imposes certain demands upon us as his children. If he’s our Father, then we must act like his children. “As obedient children, do not be conformed to the former lusts which were yours in your ignorance, but like the Holy One who called you, be holy yourselves also in all your behavior; because it is written, ‘You shall be holy, for I am holy.’ If you address as Father the One who impartially judges according to each one’s work, conduct yourselves in fear during the time of your stay on earth” (1 Peter 1.14-17). God’s children are holy and reverent, showing to the world around us what God-like character looks like.

God’s children also forgive in the same way as their Father. “And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors” (Matthew 6.12). If God has released us from our moral debt to him, we must also release others from their moral debt to us. 

The privilege of being children of God includes eternal hope but requires moral purity in the meantime. “See how great a love the Father has bestowed on us, that we would be called children of God; and such we are… everyone who has this hope fixed on Him purifies himself, just as He is pure” (1 John 3.1a, 3). 

That hope is part of our inheritance from our Father. “For all who are being led by the Spirit of God, these are sons of God. For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, ‘Abba! Father!’ The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, heirs also, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him so that we may also be glorified with Him” (Romans 8.14-17). 

Finally, to enter this Father-child relationship is a conscious choice each of us must make. It’s by faith that we become his children. “For you are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus. For all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ” (Galatians 3.26-27).

Is God your Father?

The End of the Rope

We’ve all been there: at the end of the rope, without hope, and unable to cope. 

I recently read a blog suggesting that Christians should never be at the end of their ropes, and if they are it’s only because they’re selfish and stubborn, and they only use God as a last resort. 

My problem with that approach is women and men of faith in the Bible who were at the end of their ropes. Please note that when I say that they were at the end of their ropes, what I mean is that they were in hard places, struggling emotionally and perhaps even spiritually. They weren’t sure what options were available. They weren’t selfish and certainly didn’t look at God as a last resort. In that moment, they just weren’t sure what to do.

In 1 Kings 17 we read about two people who were at the ends of their respective ropes. First, we’re introduced to the prophet Elijah who cursed the land of Israel with a drought because of King Ahab’s sinfulness (v. 1). God sent him to the brook Cherith in the Jordan River valley. There the Lord fed him with a daily provision of bread, meat, and water (v. 2-6). Then the brook ran dry because of the drought (v 7). Foodwise, he was at the end of his rope. 

Meanwhile, 100 miles away in Zarephath, a Phoenician city on the Mediterranean coast, there was a widow with a young son (v. 10-12). They were also affected by the drought and had just enough flour and oil for one last meal. She was at the end of her rope. 

Two people at the end of their ropes. What happens next is that God brings them together. Imagine that: two people struggling, and God uses them to help one another. 

God sends Elijah to the widow so she can provide for him (v. 8-9). Think about it. He sends a hungry man to the home of a widow with no food. But the Lord, through Elijah, miraculously provides her with flour and oil that wouldn’t run out until the drought ended. (v. 13-16).

Two people at the end of their ropes, provided for by the God of grace and mercy. 

When we get to the end of the rope, there’s a knot that we can grab. That knot is the promise of God. God never deserts his people. “I will never leave you or forsake you” (Joshua 1.5; Deuteronomy 31.6). This allows us to say with confidence, “The Lord is my helper, I will not be afraid. What will man do to me?” (Psalm 118.6; Hebrews 13.6).

How God works it out is his business. He may directly intervene and solve the problem. He may send us a friend to help. He may delay so that we’ll develop trust. God’s business is deliverance. Our business is to trust, pray, and obey. 

When you’re at the end of the rope, with God there’s always hope. 

Doubting Teresa

She was known popularly as Mother Teresa. She died in 1997 at the age of 87. She spent 50 of those years in the streets of Calcutta, India, working among its poorest and sickest residents. 

After she died it was learned that she struggled for much of her adult life with nagging doubts about her faith and God. Whatever you think of her, I suspect the “Saint of the Gutters” has more sympathizers than detractors. Any Christian who’s struggled with doubt can sympathize. 

The most faithful of men and women struggle at times with doubt, or at least with what we know is God’s will for us.

  • Job declared, “Though He slay me, I will hope in Him” (Job 13.15). 
  • At times, Moses preferred death to leading the Israelites (Exodus 17.4; 32.32; 33.15). 
  • Jeremiah accused God of deception and coercion: “O Lord, You have deceived me and I was deceived; You have overcome me and prevailed” (Jeremiah 20.7). 
  • In the Garden of Gethsemane Jesus confessed, “My soul is deeply grieved, to the point of death… If it is possible, let this cup pass from me” (Matthew 26.38-39). 

Faith, struggle, and doubt often exist side-by-side. It’s not that faith is swallowed up by doubt, but that doubt is kept at bay by faith. Doubt forms as we try to reconcile the contradictions and conundrums of life. Faith is how we sort through these issues to find answers. 

I want to suggest two solutions. First, Teresa of Calcutta, despite her doubts, kept working. Paul said that what matters is, “faith working through love” (Galatians 5.6). He said, “do not lose heart in doing good” (6.9). Keep working.

Second, in one letter Teresa noted that, “I accept not in my feelings — but with my will, the Will of God — I accept His will.” That’s a crucial distinction. Doubt is sometimes fostered when we put feelings above facts. Frankly, there may be times when we don’t “feel like” being Christians, yet we keep doing what’s right. John said, “We will know by this that we are of the truth, and will assure our heart before Him in whatever our heart condemns us; for God is greater than our heart and knows all things” (1 John 3.19-20). Keep seeking God’s will.

Doubt is sometimes a necessary if unwelcome companion to faith. But the apostle Paul’s insight can help us keep doubt in its place: “But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves; we are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not despairing; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body. For we who live are constantly being delivered over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death works in us, but life in you” (2 Corinthians 4.7-12).