The Price of Obedience

God has graciously given me a pop quiz, reminding me that what I know is of little value if I do not apply it.

I have learned so much over the years about the Bible, God, and how he interacts in this world, but there is this disconnect that happens in my life. I forget that these truths are not just some type of great spiritual abstraction. I forget that if they are to have any value they have to be lived out here and now, in this world, in this place, and before witnesses.

But even more importantly, I forget that these truths can only be witnessed if they are lived.

And who is going to live them if those of us who declare them are not willing to submit their lives to that cause?

We live in a world that has tried hijack our faith and bastardize the promises of our God. We are told that all good things come to those who serve him, those follow the rules, and have enough faith. Blessings and abundance will spring forth, we will never know suffering, pain will never touch us, respect and honor is ours for the taking.

You have heard it. I know you have. God has given you a desire and dream, and he wants nothing more than for you to have the desires he has placed in your heart. You deserve it, you are a child of the king, you will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living, and your life will be fountain of joy!

But you do know what? The world doesn’t need to see more happy people being happy. Really. We already know that the people with the great houses, fabulous cars, and dream jobs are happy. Everyone gets this formula, it is sold to us in every TV ad and magazine article out there. Follow your passion, chase your dream, get enough money, have the perfect family, and make the right friends and your life will be nothing short of fulfilling and blissful.

But what about everyone else? What about those of us with the crap jobs, dysfunctional families, living pay check to pay check, and just struggling to keep breathing under the pressures of this world? What about those of us doing everything right and our lives are imploding? What about us? Is there no joy for us? No hope? No blessings spilling from the heavens despite our best efforts? What about our broken hearts that were shattered because we dared to dream, dared to hope, and dared to love? Only to broken against the reality that we live in fallen world filled with others just as broken as we have ever been? Does God not love us? Is this the price of obedience?

Yes! A thousand times, yes!

Pain is the price of obedience. For you cannot love a broken world without being broken. You cannot have dreams shattered if you never dare to dream. You cannot hurt for the pains of another if you do not open your heart to their wounds and, in turn, to be wounded. You cannot find fulfillment if you do not first empty yourself, and you cannot be disappointed if you do not dare to hope.

And all of this will happen if you step out and seek the Father’s heart for your life. You will dream big dreams, you know great hopes, and you will love with a depth that defies human understanding. And the world will seek to destroy you for daring such great things. It will take the ones you love from you, it will shred your most precious dream, and it will shatter your hopes. And God will let it, with no apologies, he will let the world do a tap dance on the graves of all that you buried along the way.

This is the test. Can you still seek him while the fanfare plays? While your enemies rejoice over you demise? When you can’t see him past the jubilant crowds? Can you trust him when you know it wasn’t just a hope or dream that died, but a part of your heart?

It will be long, cold three days and nights. And you will grieve as you have never grieved before. But can you keep coming back? Can you return to that place where that precious part of you died? Search for evidence that all you have endured wasn’t in vain? Or will you give up? Declare that God is just as dead as the dream you mourn? Or will you come with spices and nard, honoring the fact that you were once given something so precious, refusing to be bitter at its loss?

But, Emily, someone is protesting now, God gave me these hopes and dreams! I deserve to have them! He tells me so! I have it written in his Word. 

And yes, you are so right, but where does it say that any of this comes without a cost?

Show me one Abraham who didn’t put a child on the alter, a David who wasn’t chased out of his homeland, an Elijah who didn’t dine on roadkill, a Jeremiah who wasn’t thrown in a pit, a Hosea who wasn’t married to a whore, a Mary who wasn’t accused of being a slut, a Paul who was not stoned and left for dead, or Christ who did not die on a cross. If you can, I will show you someone whose testimony of God’s grace and mercy is meaningless. I will show you someone who never knew what it was to walk in true faith, to rely fully on the provision and protection of God’s love. I will show you someone who will might pay beautiful lip service to my God but never dared to follow him into the wilds. I will show you someone’s who faith was not purified and tempered in the furnace of life.

Above all, I will show you someone who never knew the beauty and glory of resurrection, and this is the good news we are to bring to the world – our God is greater than any death we may ever experience. And what better way to declare this message than to live it? To place our lives in his hands, fully aware of what it will cost, and yet still declaring the truth of his love. A love that is not defeated in lives of chaos and disappointment, but a love the will shine forth in the resurrection and vindication of his children! This is the message of hope the world needs, and it can only be witnessed if we are willing to live it.

Two Legs And A Piece Of An Ear

The coyotes were thick that year. Paw prints around the chicken coop and their howls sounding just beyond the edges of the porch light were constant reminders that they were on the prowl, waiting for their next chance to kill. It was spring. With young pups in their dens, mamas were lean and hungry. Their normal reserve was wearing thin, and they were willing to take risks that ran contrary to their timid nature. We should have known it was only a matter of time before one of the cows would become vulnerable as they began dropping that year’s calves.

But the coyotes weren’t the only mamas lean and hungry. I was in my second year of seminary. Every week I spent nineteen hours on the road, to and from class. I juggled Greek and Hebrew vocabulary and grammar, the needs of my children, the obligations that came with living on the family farm, and the constant strain of simply trying to survive.

The first semester of grad school, I had tried working until my body rebelled. It seemed that I wasn’t super woman after all, and twenty hours of work combined with fifteen hours of class, homeschooling, that massive commute, and various other needs that had to be tended were more than I could take. Not that I would admit that. In my mind, failure just meant that I hadn’t tried hard enough, and I was livid when I was forced to “self-terminate” my job. Officially the paper work states it was due to lack of availability to work. The truth was I was terminated due to my lack of availability to the womanizing manager, thus beginning a downward spiral into student loan debt, but even then money was virtually nonexistent.

I could write a novel on the obstacles I had faced just trying to get by. My love life was a shambles. The church I attended underwent a major shift that led to me leaving, and not on good terms. I was living on cigarettes and coffee. Five hours of unbroken sleep was a luxury, and I was having to work double time to keep up with my classmates whose previous degrees had prepared them for the classes we now took. Even the most common terms tossed about by my profs were foreign to me, and I was looking up almost everything they said so I could understand the lectures – Reform Theology, Liberation Theology, documentary criticism, redaction, pericopes, types and shadows, all of it left me wondering if I really belonged here. My fellow students seemed to know I didn’t belong there and only a few were willing to be more than polite, and few weren’t even willing to do that.

Emotionally, mentally, and even in this place where one would expect to be fed spiritually, I was that the end of my rope. Don’t get me wrong. God provided in ways that defy explanation, but sometimes it is hard to see him at work when your world is crashing down around you.

“As a shepherd recuses from the mouth of the lion two legs or a piece of an ear, so shall the people of Israel who dwell in Samaria be rescued.” Amos 3:12

These words roused me from the open-eyed nap I had perfected for chapel, and I briefly tuned in to hear the rest of the speaker’s sermon. “Why in the world would anyone bother to save two legs and a piece of an ear?” I wondered, and then my sleep deprived mind turned grouchy. “You’d better hurry up,” I mentally told God, “or that’s going to be all that is left of me. And what good is that going to do you?”

That night after the kids were asleep, I sat on the front porch and dined on ramen noodles and steak sauce, and considered dropping out. What type of mother was I being to my children? How could I possibly get through this when I was constantly so lost on my assignments? Maybe I was never meant to fit in with all the people who had really been called to be in seminary, and I needed to come to grips with the fact that my pride had led me into an impossible situation. The coyotes screamed in the darkness, and on impulse I screamed back hoping to scare them away. Instead, they joined me filling the night with their song until it seemed as if everything dark and black hid hundreds of their kind. I laughed, wasn’t this how it always goes? Stand your ground only to learn that the enemy has you out numbered and surrounded?

The next day, one of the cows limped to the barn. That she had calved was obvious, but the baby was nowhere to be seen. I pulled on my boots and began searching the forty acres. In the far back corner, I found what the coyotes had left.

Two legs and a piece of an ear.

People claim that God doesn’t talk to us these days, but he spoke to on that one. I didn’t need words. It was spelled out in blood before me. Was my God any less loving or caring than me? Was he any less compassionate towards me than I was for this animal? And if I trudged through the heavy grass, to find what was hidden from me, would the God who saw everything miss my struggles? Here I was examining the aftermath of a vicious attack, but he swore to be there to reclaim what was his even from the mouth of the lion. Not to simply view the remains after the enemy had left.

In Exodus 22, we are told that if man gives livestock to another for safekeeping, and it is torn to bits that that the caretaker should gather the remains, and hand it over as proof that he was not a thief. As I walked away from the bloody bits of the calf wishing I could have done more and being confronted with the fact that I could not, I realized that while I had done all I could in the natural, I still had a job to do in the spiritual. I was not a thief. I had not neglected the gifts that had been given over to my care. My life may have been shredded by the teeth of an enemy who roams about like a lion seeking who he could devour, but I was still responsible to get those pieces back to the rightful owner. So that day, I gathered up the remains of my life and presented them to God.

I realized that in keeping those bits of my ravaged hopes and dreams, I was condemning myself as a thief. I was hanging onto what did not belong to me, and hiding the evidence of my own innocence in their demise. And I think this is where most of us miss a step. We see the death, and we see the gore, and so we walk away without completing the task set before us.

Some of us need to go back to the far corner of that field in our lives where our dreams died, we need to pick up the scattered pieces, and return them to the One who gave us that dream. They belong to him, not us, and we need to finish what we started. Walking away, leaving the remains on the ground, shouldn’t be an option. For as we march to God’s throne to offer up even these fragments, we are walking in defiance of our enemy, and bearing witness to the world of our God’s goodness and mercy. We are rejecting the lies of the one who devours, proclaiming that he does not have the final word, he does not get to define our reality, and we will not be branded a thief based on his actions. We are affirming that God sees through it all, he knows who bears the blame, and that we can trust him in our brokenness.

So get to walking, look for those pieces. Stop bearing the guilt that belongs to the one who destroys. Don’t entertain the shame for the deeds of the one who kills. Move in faith towards the King who surrounds us with love, and who never saw death – even the death of dreams – as final. Then stand back and watch what he can do with two legs and a piece of an ear.

"How Could Such An Intelligent Person Believe That?"

I am often asked why “such an intelligent person” would allow my life to be dictated by such an archaic book as the Bible. The implication being that to do so is a stupid choice or, worse, I am stupid for making that choice. Now, this the point in the conversation where most Christian do one of two things: they become offended and say some rather rude things about the questioner, or they start quoting Scripture at the questioner, appealing to the Bible’s declarations of authority.

The flaw with first approach should be self-evident, but in case you need a refresher, calling people names, casting aspersions on their intelligence or character, or more simply failing to be gracious is not in keeping with the dictates of Scripture. Furthermore, you have revealed your own hypocrisy and lack of faith by seeking the validation of another’s agreement. So just don’t, okay?

The second approach is also flawed, because it ignores the one basic fact that would lead to such a conversation in the first place – the Bible is not authoritative to anyone who does not believe in it.
Allow me to break this down for you: If you do not accept that Bible is a holy and inspired work, you have no reason to accept any of its claims, including the right to be seen as holy and inspired.

However, there is a third option. It is a much harder and demanding option, but it places the demands of Scripture above our own flawed thinking. This is three step approach, and it cannot be something that you do in the heat of an argument. Waiting until someone challenges you on the authority of Scripture to apply this method is too late, and it will not work.

First step: Live like you believe that Bible really is the divine decrees of God. I am not going to try and make a list of what this should look like. To do so would require far more time and space than I suspect you allowed for reading this blog, but it brings us to the…

Second step: Study your Bible, and I mean really study your Bible. I am not talking about doing a daily devotional. Devotionals all fine and dandy, but most of them were designed to make you feel good about your faith. They were created to be soothing to your ragged nerves and fragile egos, but real Bible study confronts and challenges us. It is does not allow us to pass over the unnerving bits of Scripture and forces us to ask ourselves, what do we truly believe? Are we comfortable with the God who demanded that Abraham place his son on that altar? How about the God who killed the first born of Egypt or demanded the deaths of entire nations, right down to the last child? What about a God who condemns his own son to a bloody death?

Real Bible study will not let us get by with only focusing on the happy verses. And happy verses alone do not demand maturity or growth, they let us remain spiritual babies who can only live like we believe the Bible is true in the good times. By finding God in those troubling verses of the Bible, we learn how to find him in the troubling places of our lives, those places where the world needs to see him the most.

Third step: Share the awe.

There is something amazing that happens when you dig into the word and find God’s fingerprints upon the pages. A sense of awe rises up and leaves you in wonder of the revelation and artistry of this book. It is a feeling that does not have to be conjured up or whipped into a fanatical frenzy, it simply is and it settles upon your heart in waves and currents of love, joy, peace, happiness, and all the other fruits of the spirit that we are to exhibit in our lives. It inspires us to share what we have learned not through adversarial tactics but in true awe-struck veneration of a God who transforms us into a reflection of his Son.

In that place of awe, there is no need to be offended, no compulsion to be rude, and the futility of arguing is revealed. Instead, we can face our critics with love, with compassion, and with a pure desire not to be right but rather with the hope that they can experience a similar moment with their Creator. For in the end, it is not about winning an argument, and it is not about being smarter. No, it is about finding him to be bigger than our doubts and objections, unafraid of intellectual wranglings and justifications, and discovering a God greater than ourselves – a discovery that we can coerce or force upon another.

So instead, we offer them a peek at the inspiration we found in the pages of his Word. For beneath the ink and paper, beyond the rules, is the reason for our obedience – the God who wishes to be known and the love that our souls crave more deeply than any other love we once held sacred.

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The Most Awful Verse In The Bible

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.  Romans 8:28

Okay, can we just real here for a second?

This verse is awful, and I mean it. Now don’t go acting all spiritual and holy on me now, because you know it is true and I can prove it. Just think back to the time when your life was falling apart, when a loved one was dying, you had lost your job, you were in the middle of divorce, facing financial ruin, or life in general was just kicking you around. Some idiot walked up to you and quoted this verse, and while your brain said, “Oh, yes this is right,” your heart was saying, “Fat lot of good that does me right now.”

They acted like they were curing cancer by slapping on a bandaid, and you were supposed to be grateful when deep down you knew you were still dying. And to make matters worse, they were busy patting themselves on the back being spiritual enough to quote the appropriate verse and you were supposed to join in the party for this little spiritual trick.

Ok, so I guess my problem is less with the verse and more with those of us who act like it is the magic cure for what ails you. It is what we pull out when there is nothing else to say, and we are feeling pretty helpless. We use it like a spell or magic charm against our pain, our discomfort in face of another’s suffering. We have learned that if we say the right words we get bypass all that icky emotion. We can justify our reluctance to get involved in a situation that might cost us something or make something that we don’t want to feel. It is easier to act like a Christian when you aren’t bogged down by all the baggage of human suffering, but is that what being a Christian is all about? Avoiding the pain of another so that we can live an unaffected life?

I don’t believe that is.

When I look back that life Jesus I keep tripping over this phrase, “and he was moved by compassion.” It comes up twelve times in the New Testament and is used solely for describing Jesus response to those in need and in his parable of the Prodigal Son. (Now, stand back, I’m going to break out the Greek.) The word in the Greek text is splagchnizomai, and it is one of those times when we are confronted by the limitations of the English language because compassion is so pale compared to the depth of this word. Splagchnizomai is the gut level, stomach turning, heart ripping yearning for an end to another’s pain because you feel it in the core of who you are.

Splagchnizomai doesn’t leave room for platitudes or clichés. It demands action even if all you can do in the moment is weep with another in their suffering, but there is also something amazing and beautiful about this word. Something awe inspiring and powerful to be found in its usage that should shake us from any desire to live an unaffected life – it is the word of miracles.

Five of the twelve times we find splagchnizomai, it is used as the description of Jesus’ emotions before he heals, before he feeds the masses, and before he stops the power of evil dead in its tracks. Notice Jesus is not removed from the situation, he not above it, or beyond the pain, he steps into the reality of those who are hurting and it is in the moment of unity with humanity that divine love is manifest. He moves from observer to participant, from knowing to experiencing, and in doing so draws the hurting into the experience of the divine.

I am often asked why we don’t see more miracles today, and I think this is the reason. We stopped feeling, we stopped allowing the pain of another to rip at our guts, and we started handing out hallmark greeting cards instead of stepping into the midst of another’s heartache. We hide behind our definition of holiness instead of being conformed to the image of holiness found in our Lord. We tried to make this faith less costly and did so by perverting the Scripture into a message far more comfortable and gentle to our delicate sensibilities.

After all, how often have you heard the rest of that passage in Romans 8, other than in a debate about predestination?

“Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not to know what to pray as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is in the mind of the Spirit because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be called the first born among many brothers. And for those he predestined he also called, and those he whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified.”

See, the passage isn’t about someone else. It is about you. It is about me. It is about the Spirit groaning on our behalf for our weakness, and I believe one of our greatest weaknesses is the fear of feeling someone else’s suffering as if it were our own.  I believe that if we love God we will walk desire to rise above that fear and in that moment we get to experience and share in the goodness of God. And I believe that we are fulfilling our purpose when we respond, when we allow the pain of another to turn our guts with the power of love. When we trust God enough to go there, to allow ourselves to be conformed to the image of his Son in this way, we are becoming who are supposed to be, and maybe we are opening the door to the miraculous in the life of another.

Masochist Tendencies, Sin, or Obedient Wisdom?

Sometimes I am quite certain that I am a masochist at heart. I mean who else would try to learn Hebrew and Greek at the same time? And who else would go out of their way to read, listen to, and watch teachings that run counter to their deeply held beliefs? Yet, time and time again that is precisely what I find myself doing with my time.

Usually, I look at these works as an attempt to understand those whose ideas and faith differs from mine. Many times it is a rewarding experience getting to rummage around in someone else’s brain for a while – a sort of mental vacation from my world. My response is much the same as I might experience on a real life trip wherein I view the artifacts of a differing culture with the full knowledge that I am indulging my intellectual curiosity rather than looking for a new home.

Then there are times when I deliberately set myself in the path of ideas that are counter to mine, hoping to be challenged so that I can know what my faith is really made of. These times are more like a scaling Everest, less of a pleasure trip and more a test of self, a grueling trek made in a hostile environment while still trying to convince myself that this is a fun and rewarding experience. I know that experience can change me, for better or worse. I may well walk away knowing something new about what I believe that could only come through pushing my faith to the limits.

I won’t lie. There have been times when I pushed myself too far had to be medevacked off that mountain side because I broke something or got spiritually dehydrated on the trip. It is cold out there, and the winds of opposing ideas tug at your mind the way the winds of the Himalayas must tug at a hiker’s clothes. Is it any wonder that my fellow Christians wonder why I do it and if there is a point to these journeys? Sure, I learn some new things. I meet some fascinating people along the way. I even have some amazing travel stories and some really awesome pictures, if you can get past the fact that in most of them I am standing on the edge of a cliff, but most of my friends wonder why I do it in pretty much the same manner I wonder why anyone in their right mind would bother to climb a treacherous mountain covered in snow and frozen poop. Just as the desire to make the physical journey leaves me baffled and questioning the sanity of those who climb mountains, my forays into the wilds of opposing world views and faiths leave my brothers and sisters questioning mine.

One of the consequences of my exploratory hikes is having to deal with those who question the validity of my faith. After all what true Christian would deliberately go there? Be it a bar, a pagan festival, or just a webpage that promotes something counter to my faith, the most repeated phrase I hear is “I don’t need to mess with/be distracted by that trash/those lies when I already know the truth.”

The irony, that most of them will not acknowledge, is that I am the one they turn to when circumstance pushes them outside their Christian bubble. I am the one who gets the message asking me to explain the terms like pansexual, kundalini, or Jonesing, and the conversation usually sounds starts with the phrase, “You are the only person I could think of who might know anything about…”

Personally, I find that sad. In fact, if I wanted to be real honest, I find it rather abhorrent because it is nothing more than disobedience glorified as holiness.

Jesus told us that we are to be wise as serpents and innocent as doves, and too many of us succumb to our natural aversion to snakes and act as if the first part of that command didn’t exist. Doves are nicer, they coo so prettily, and the Bible has so many great things to say about them, not to mention they taste great!  Snakes on the other hand don’t have such a great reputation, the sounds they make aren’t nearly so reassuring, and they rarely make it to a plate. (Deep fried on stick if you get down to Texas, but plates not so much.)

But that is kind of the point – doves get eaten if they aren’t smart enough to avoid it, and based on the number I find in the grill of my truck, I don’t place a high value on their intelligence. Neither, does it seem, did Jesus. Why else would he offer the characteristics of the dove as only one part of that equation?

Boys and girls, we can’t afford to just be doves anymore. We have to start taking the whole of this command seriously, and we need to be acquiring wisdom, actively striving to know more about our faith and about our culture. We need to be learning the language of our world the way Paul understood the language of his, drawing from all the resources he had available from Torah to pop poet of his day. We need to be aware of the schemes of the devil, and I am not talking about the latest sensationalized trend that Christian fear-mongers use to keep us trembling and ineffective before a wicked world. That path leads us nowhere, it teaches us nothing, and defies the promise of God who says he did not give us a spirit of fear.

Wisdom is learned in the journey. Faith is tested and refined on that trek into the wilds. The pathways are not easy and they aren’t always pretty, but we were commanded to go into the world for a reason. A reason that not only encompasses sharing the good news but also that we might learn the depths and limits of our faith. For we will never know how much we have to learn until we have been forced to cling to the hand Father along treacherous paths.

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If There Is No Love

If there is no love for those you serve, then there is no love for the Father.

If there is no joy in your service to the Lord, then it is not Him that you are serving.

If there is no peace in the sacrifice, then it not being offered to our God.

If there is no patience in the stillness, then there is impatience with our Lord .

If there is no kindness extended to others, then you have not accepted the kindness of our King.

If there is no goodness in your work, then the work is not to His glory.

If there is no faithfulness in the toil, then there is no faith in Him to complete His good work in you.

If there is no gentleness in your actions, then you have denied the gentleness of our Father.

If there is no self-control, then you have not surrendered to the control of our King.

Every good deed we do is a testament to our relationship with our Lord, and every evil we commit against ourselves and others is denial of it. Our live are to inspired acts love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. When we fail to demonstrate these things in our lives we are merely demonstrating how we have failed to draw close to Him.