The Loving Unloved

“By this it is evident who are the children of God, and who are the children of the devil: whoever does not practice righteousness is not of God, nor is the one who does not love his brother. For this is the message that you have heard from the beginning, that we should love one another. We should not be like Cain, who was of the evil one and murdered his brother. And why did he murder him? Because his own deeds were evil and his brother's righteous. Do not be surprised, brothers, that the world hates you. We know that we have passed out of death into life, because we love the brothers. Whoever does not love abides in death.”

‭‭1 John‬ ‭3:10-14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Us and them.  The Apostle John takes pains to make it very clear that there are two - and only two - categories of people in the world.  I know that there is an element in modern evangelicalism who would like to embrace everyone as being “a child of God.”  Yet this does not square with the Bible, not does it account for the fact that some people love God, and some hate Him.  Some believe; some don’t.  Some love those who follow Jesus; some don’t.  As soon as we acknowledge these realities, we admit that people are not all alike - especially when it comes to matters of faith.  Broadly but specifically speaking, according to John, people fall into two groups: those who are actually God’s children, and those who are of “the world.”

In some ways, these two groups are like oil and water: they don’t mix well.  Or maybe they are more like opposite poles on a magnet:  they repel each other.  John says the difference can be seen in what each group loves.  Those who are of the world hate those who are of God.  They are the real “haters” in society, hating what is good and righteous and holy, along with all those who represent those values.  They mock at and misrepresent them, and attempt to paint people of faith and conviction in their own colors, saying that Christian believers are the narrow-minded “haters,” simply because of their choice of holiness over evil.  John says this is par for the course, and ought not to come as a big surprise.  Just the way it is; so deal with it.

How?  By loving the unlovely.  Even when we are unloved by the world, we are to love anyway.  By tapping into the love of Jesus, we are to overcome our natural tendency to be repelled by animosity and vitriol, and love anyway.  Why?  Because God first loved us, even when we were unlovely; because we know from Christ's example what love really is, and because we experience it on a daily basis.  Followers of Jesus are, first and foremost, people who love.  We love God.  W
e love what is good and right and pure and holy. We love God’s children.  And we even love those who hate us, who hate our Savior, and who hate His loveliness.  

Seems to me we need to embrace the reality that we are going to be loved by the world no more than the world loved Jesus, and stop trying to get the world to like us.  We need to stop trying to accommodate the spiritually dead by playing dead ourselves.  Deadness does not resurrect the dead.  Only love does - the love of Jesus expressed at the cross, and expressed through His people.

God's Oddball Children

See how great a love the Father has bestowed on us, that we would be called children of God; and such we are. For this reason the world does not know us, because it did not know Him.  Beloved, now we are children of God, and it has not appeared as yet what we will be. We know that when He appears, we will be like Him, because we will see Him just as He is.  And everyone who has this hope fixed on Him purifies himself, just as He is pure.

                                                                   - I John 3:1-3

How clearly I remember, as a teen, how incredibly important it was to "fit in."  I worked hard at dressing "right," listening to the "right" music, using the "right" language, getting the "right" hair - in an all-encompassing attempt to find acceptance among my peers.  Early in my career as a junior high student I learned painful lessons in the social costs of "standing out."  Kids at that age can be pretty vicious.

I think kids react in a couple of ways to teenage peer pressure.  Some, like I did, work hard at blending in with the crowd.  Others rebel against the pressure to conform, and also work hard - at finding ways to be "different."  Most often this actually means becoming part of yet another subculture - the ones who "rebel together."  Never quite comfortable with being a complete solo act, they gravitate toward other kids who are the "fringe" element, maybe the ones most often grumbled about in the teachers' lounge, or found hanging out consistently in the principal's office (do they still send behavior problems there?).

How that all plays out in adulthood has probably been the subject of many a doctoral dissertation or masters thesis; beats me, I can only conjecture.  But I think the concern for social conformity stays with us, to a degree, all our lives.  One thing for sure is that the society in which we find ourselves today increasingly pushes back against those who pursue conformity to Jesus and His kingdom.  The world, frankly, does not "get" those who are the ones the Father calls His true children.

But then, according to the Apostle John, it never did, because it doesn't "get" Jesus.

He urges us to make peace with the fact that we are not like the world, and are becoming even more unlike it.  Christians - those in whom the Spirit of God is doing a transforming work - need to realize that to grow in Christlikeness is to become more of a social anomaly.  Rather than resist being something of an "oddball," John urges us to lean into it, to cooperate with the Spirit, to move steadily toward Christ - keeping our eyes fixed on the hope of becoming completely like Him - a hope that will be realized on the day He returns to collect His own.  In that day, the day faith becomes sight, God promises our transformation - our conformity to the only One who matters - will be complete.  

And somehow, I don't think it will be a big deal whether we have the "right" hair.

Help - Where?

PSALM 121
 - A Song of Ascents.

1 I lift up my eyes to the hills.  From whence does my help come?

2 My help comes from the Lord,
 who made heaven and earth.

3 He will not let your foot be moved, he who keeps you will not slumber.

4 Behold, he who keeps Israel
 will neither slumber nor sleep.

5 The Lord is your keeper;
 the Lord is your shade
 on your right hand.

6 The sun shall not smite you by day, nor the moon by night.

7 The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life.

8 The Lord will keep
 your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.

Who doesn't need help?

When we are infants we are utterly dependent. As we get older, we learn to accomplish personal tasks, and frequently insist on accomplishing them unassisted. Our eagerness to be independent asserts itself early on, and only grows through adolescence into adulthood. Yet the time comes when we realize a need for others - to instruct us, to guide us, to coach us, to befriend us. "No man is an island," totally self- sufficient. Yet very often we still resist an honest admission of need - until we experience a crisis occurs that brings us low, and opens our understanding to our true condition.

When such an event occurs, where we turn for help makes all the difference. There are many who prey upon people in need, and seek to profit from their condition. They offer comfort and security, but their ability to deliver is always less than complete. When eventually we become disillusioned with empty promises, it is easy to give up on the one thing that keeps us going: hope.

Hopelessness is a deep, dark place, and robs the human spirit of motivation and purpose. It is the greatest of all miseries, and is the very essence of Hell itself. When we are in despair over irretrievable losses, whether they be of relationships, financial means, physical health, lost youth, personal freedom, or a loss of direction, of a sense of meaning and ultimate purpose in life, we can slide into hopelessness. And it is at the point of deepest, darkest hopelessness that we actually get a taste of what it must mean to be in a place where God is eternally absent. This is the fearful condition of those in Hell. No purpose. No fellowship. No joy. No hope.

Yet it is at this most precarious moment that we can discover God Himself.

As we reach out in desperation to the God we previously held at arms distance; as we turn in humility and submission to the Author of the life we call our "own," we find that He is the One who not only restores clarity concerning the real meaning and purpose of our lives, but showers us with love and forgiveness through His Son. It is in admitting our need of His ultimate assistance that we uncover our true design - that we are in fact created beings, designed to live dependently upon Him.

And in discovering - or rediscovering - His loving faithfulness, we again find hope. And we can find ourselves boasting not in our own strategies, but in Him. We find we can affirm with the Psalmist: "Where does my help come from? My help comes from the One who made those mountains, the One who made me, and the One who made my eternal home. He is strong, He is faithful - and He has my back!"

Who Are the Hypocrites?

Okay, it's been a while.  Sorry.  I'm going to try to do better.  It's not like I haven't been writing; it's just that I haven't been posting.  These things take time, and I could make all kinds of excuses - many of which sound pretty good to me.  But I won't.  Reality:  I've been lazy.  So I'm going to work on that, by God's grace.  So, here goes...

“But to what shall I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to their playmates,

“‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;
    we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn.’

For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look at him! A glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is justified by her deeds.” - Matthew 11:16-19

Recently, after preaching the funeral for a very dear relative, during which I attempted to share the wonderful grace of God through the gospel of Christ, I was confronted by another relative who pointedly remarked: "You're not as good as you think you are!" Wow!  If he only knew how good I think I'm NOT!  Guess he sort of missed the point of my sermon.  Could be I didn't make it clear enough.  On the other hand, maybe it was too clear...

It seems the tendency of those who insist on their own goodness to attempt to justify their independence of Christ's authority by pointing to what they perceive as the inconsistencies or hypocrisy of Christians.  In reality, so long as these folk insist on setting their own standards for what constitutes "holy" behavior, those who profess Christ will never measure up, thus giving the skeptics ample excuse (in their own minds) to persist in directing their own lives as they see fit.

Independent, self-directed people routinely want to dictate the standards for righteousness not only to those who are "religious" but to God Himself, certain that He will in no way condemn them, since they are living so much "better" than those hypocritical "religious" people - or so they think.  The reality is, these folk will latch onto any excuse to avoid coming to Christ in humble repentance, admitting their own sin and sinfulness, and desperate need of a Savior.

We who follow Jesus must not make the mistake of trying to satisfy such people by "dancing to their tune."  They are in fact the true hypocrites, insisting on their own righteousness while holding the gospel at arm's distance.  We have but one Judge to satisfy, and He receives the humble and genuinely penitent by laying down His life for them, and covering them with His own righteousness - which is more than enough.

Greater Love Has No One Than This...

Lance Corporal Harry J. Simmons, Jr., USMC

Echo Company, Second Battalion, 1st Marine Division, III MAF

died, 8 April 1967, Quang Nam Province, Republic of Vietnam

 

To begin with, allow me clear up what Memorial Day is NOT:

 

1.  It is not a 3-day weekend.  It is 1 day, held once a year on the last Monday of May.

 

2.  It is not the 27th of May.  Since 1968, Memorial Day has been observed on the last Monday of May in accordance with the Uniform Monday Holiday Act of 1968, by which Congress moved it, along with Washington's Birthday, Columbus Day and Veterans' Day (which has since been restored to its traditional date) to be always celebrated on a Monday, in order to provide more 3-day weekends for federal employees (not kidding).

 

Memorial Day - originally called Decoration Day - had traditionally been observed on the 30th of May.  (And Washington's Birthday - not surprisingly - had been observed on his actual birthday - January 22nd.  A dozen states have actually rolled up the observance of ALL Presidents' birthdays into this one day, calling it "President's Day" instead of Washington's birthday.  By doing so, this basically puts Washington on the same level as Richard Nixon.  But I digress...)  Decoration Day had its origins following the Civil War, and the purpose was to honor the fallen of that war.

 

3.  It is not celebrated in honor of the Indy 500.

 

4.  It is not Veteran's Day.  Veterans' Day (formerly called Armistice Day in observance of the end of World War I, which officially took place at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918).  Veterans' Day honors all those who have served in the defense of our nation.  Memorial Day honors those who have died in defense of our nation and its Constitution.

 

As we observe this day, many of us have faces to put with the host of Americans who have made the ultimate sacrifice in our stead.  For me, one of those faces belongs to a 20-year-old Marine named Harry Simmons.  Harry was my best buddy's big brother - a guy we looked up to for a number of qualities, not the least of which were his patriotism and courage.  When he joined the Marines, he literally became a hero to us.  After all, there was a war - though undeclared - going on.

 

In April, 1967, we got the news no one wants, that Harry had been killed by small arms fire while on patrol.  Not knowing what else to do, I went frequently to my buddy's house to try and provide some kind of comfort through my presence.  Little did I realize how those visits were going to provide comfort to me.

 

While hanging out at my buddy's house, I was amazed at the outpouring of affection, sympathy and support from the people of Harry's family's church.  It really made me pay attention.  I remember sitting there, listening to those present talk about how they were certain Harry was in heaven.  Now I knew Harry enough to know that their confidence must have been in something other than his perfect behavior.  Harry was a good guy, and a hero, but he was far from perfect.  As I listened, I discerned that their assurance was in the fact that Harry had done something they referred to as "accepted Christ" as a young man.  This was a new thought, but the more I listened, the more I desired the same assurance of eternal life.

 

However, I thought this must be something a person did, in their ecclesiastical formula, at a particular age.  (This made sense to me since, in my background, we went through "confirmation" at age 12.)  Since Harry had evidently made this commitment at age 16, and since I was about a month from being 16, I began to wonder what the qualifications were for accepting Christ, and whether I might be able to go through the rite.

 

One day I caught Harry's mom alone in their kitchen, and like Nicodemus coming to Jesus by night, I surreptitiously inquired:  "You know that thing about accepting Jesus?  When do you do that?" fully expecting her to say, "When you're 16."  But I'll never forget his mom's beaming face, nor her somewhat cryptic answer: "You'll know."

 

Huh?  I will?  How?  I had already begun going to my buddy's church; now I was on the edge of my seat each Sunday, waiting for the pastor's invitation at the end of each service, and waiting for the Lord to show me a sign that He was ready for me to make this decision.  Looking back it's kind of humorous now, but I think Harry's mom's answer was really great: it made me look to God for His leading, His drawing, His confirmation that He wanted me.

 

One Sunday, I KNEW this was it, and when the pastor gave his invitation, I was down the aisle - and meant it, as best I understood things.  And the rest, as they say, is history.

 

I owe a great deal to that young Marine, and to his family.  How I thank God for Harry, and for God using his life as a sacrifice to bring me - and others through me - to Himself. 

 

And I thank God for Harry's family, especially His mom, who was such a great example of sensitivity and availability to the Lord during those days, even in the midst of her broken-heartedness over the loss of her eldest son.  I have always hoped that my own salvation, and the work God has done through my life, have been of some encouragement to her.  She's getting pretty old now - close to 90, I think - and will soon be reunited with her son.  What a great comfort that must be for her as well.

 

It seems a little weird to say, "Happy Memorial Day."  Instead, let me encourage you to reflect today on someone you may know who gave his or her life that you and I might live in freedom.  Truly, "greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for his friends."

 

 

 

 

 

NEW BLOG NAME AND ADDRESS

I just wanted to let you all know that I am slightly changing the name of my blog, to Very First Sip.  The new address will be http://very-first-sip.blogspot.com.

The reason for the change is that I have discovered there is another blog that shares the same name as the one I have been using, but that blog does NOT share the same worldview with me.  I don't want anyone to mistakenly go to the wrong blog, and find thoughts or values that could mislead badly.

Thanks to all of you who follow or read my humble offerings.

"CRUMMY" FAITH

But she answered him, “Yes, Lord; yet even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”

I have often wondered at the Lord's response to the Syrophoenician woman.  Here is Jesus in her part of the world - the region of Tyre and Sidon - and she, one of the residents who has obviously heard of Him as a merciful and powerful worker of miracles, comes with a huge concern.  Her little daughter is possessed by a demon - an "unclean spirit."  Who knows how it came to be that this little girl would be in this condition?  This region was pagan in its general beliefs and practices, and as such, the people were in great darkness.  Likely they indulged in spirit-ism and the occult.  Perhaps this little girl was herself exposed to, or used in, in the occult rituals, possibly by her mother or father, or maybe she was just part of the "collateral damage" of the culture.

In any event, I am sure that it came as no surprise to Jesus that He would encounter Gentiles with needs in this region.  So His response to this woman has always been interesting to me.  "Let the children be fed first, for it is not right to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs."

"Dogs?"  Really?  Not exactly the Andrew Carnegie approach to successful ministry.

Yet, on the other hand, it is clear that Jesus deals with this Gentile, this outsider, not as an annoyance, not like the unrighteous judge of Luke 18:4,5, who only gave his help to the needy widow to get her off his back: “Even though I do not respect God nor fear man, yet because this widow bothers me I will give her legal protection, lest by continually coming she wear me out." Rather, Jesus saw this Gentile woman as an object of His great compassion, whose spoken concern He appreciates, but whose deeper need He determines to address.  He tests her, not to plumb the depths of her heart for His own knowledge, but for hers, that she might truly address Him with humility, that she might be freed of her hardness of heart toward the Jews, and that she might acknowledge her own lack of qualification for any blessing from their God.

But if Jesus' response to her request is surprising, her answer to His feigned denial is stunning:

“Yes, Lord; yet even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” 

Wow!  She does not become indignant, does not argue, but seizes upon His words and goes with them as the path to continue her appeal.  Here is what the Pulpit Commentary has to say about this remarkable answer:

It is as though she said, “Give me, most gracious Lord, only a crumb (a small mercy compared with thy greater mercies), the healing of my little daughter, which may fall as it were from thee upon us Canaanites and Gentiles, and be gratefully picked up as one of thy lesser benefits.”

Cornelius à Lapide enlarges beautifully upon this: “Feed me, then, as a little dog. To me, a poor Gentile, let a crumb of thy grace and mercy be vouchsafed; but let the full board, the plentiful bread of grace and righteousness, be reserved for the Jewish children. I cannot leave the table of my Lord, whose little dog I am. No; if you spurn me away with your foot, or with a blow, I will go away; but I will come back again, like a little dog, through another door. I will not be driven away by blows. I will not let thee go until thou hast given me what I ask of thee.’ For this Canaanite constrains Christ, arguing her case from his own words, prudently, modestly, forcibly, and with a humble faith which perceives that he is not unwilling to be overcome by petition and by reason. Indeed, she entangles him in the meshes of his own words. So great is the plenteousness of his table, that it shall abundantly suffice for her if she may but partake of the crumbs which fall from the table of his children.”[1]

By her submission to the true ways of God, by acceding to His choice of the Jews as His people and the agency through which He reveals His truth to all peoples, she agreed with God – which is the essence of repentance – and so gained not only the freedom of her daughter from the demon, but of her own soul in the process.

So, by coming to Him in humility, acknowledging that I am not worthy to be seated as His table, but that, if He is willing, just a crumb from the feast that He justifiably provides to whomever He chooses will suffice to heal me, to nurture me, to transform me, to make me a part of the feast, I can have confidence, not in my worthiness, but in His merciful kindness, whose “steadfast love endures forever” (Ps 136).

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^[1]Spence-Jones, H. D. M. (Hrsg.): The Pulpit Commentary: St. Mark Vol. I. Bellingham, WA : Logos Research Systems, Inc., 2004, S. 295