Setting Limits? Or Exceeding Them?

A "limited edition" possesses more worth than something produced quickly, economically, and for everyone to enjoy. A weight limit restricts usage to those who don't meet the standard. A speed limit tends to be regarded as the least you can do for those following you. A child growing up in his big brother's shadow can be discouraged by its limitations or propelled to greater heights. In short, limits can be confusing. They can be good for those within them, like not receiving a speeding ticket. They can also be good for those who exceed them, like a record-breaking run. Limits can --well, limit, or limits can challenge and inspire. They can keep you safe or keep you bound.

At the annunciation of Jesus' virgin birth, the angel told Mary, "For with God, nothing will be impossible." Nothing. No limits. Which means everything is possible. Frederick Buechner writes, "God is the master of the impossible, and He is a master of the impossible because in terms of what man thinks possible, He is in the end, a wild and impossible God." Not wild as in unruly or chaotic, but wild as in "exceedingly abundantly above all we can ask or imagine." (Eph. 3:20, 21) He is the God of virgin birth as well as the God of life from a corpse. He is the God of a blind man who became a seeing man and a woman who kept her past hidden so deeply she chose to draw water in the heat of the afternoon. God knew it anyway. He is the God of trees from nothing and fish from His word and days that keep on coming one right after the other unless He says otherwise. He is the God of a bagged lunch feeding thousands and a soaking wet altar bursting into flame. He is the God of walls big and thick enough to build a house on falling at the sound of trumpets and a sea that stands at attention as slaves make their way to freedom. He is the God of poisonous snakes whose bite doesn't kill and ravenously hungry lions that refuse to eat kosher. He is the God of beautiful flowers and bright green grass as well as terrifying-looking cheribum (not those chubby little darlings in the buff) with two pairs of wings and four faces. He is the God of kings and presidents and corporate executives and bank CEOs and short order cooks and people who acknowledge Him and people who don't. He is the God who heals hangnails and weeps over war-ravaged ghettos. He is God of the impossible, the God before whom mountains melt like wax and hardened criminals bow. He is the God who does not disregard limits but lovingly establishes them, for our protection and happiness and confirmation as the best image bearers we can be; and He will not be limited in any way but by His own true character. He is not only superior but exclusive; He is the first and the last; and in the hearts and minds of His children He deserves not just to be present but preeminent. He is the God who loves His children and has established laws for their protection and happiness. 

So, what about the limits in your life? Have you been told you will never be enough? Have you believed it? Have you been sent to prison, rendered infertile, raped, handed a slow death sentence, addicted, lost a spouse, scammed out of your retirement fund, beaten brutally by someone you trusted? Have you allowed yourself to be limited by those things? Has your disregard for boundaries left you filled with shame and regret --shame and regret that have become the barbed-wire fence around your life? Do you simply need a miracle in your current situation? Seek out the God of limits, the one who sets them and exceeds them for His glory and the good of His people.

What Will Be!

One of the devotional tools I use is Scripture Union's Encounter with God, a daily reading in a portion of Scripture with commentary, prayer, and application. Beginning in May, we entered a segment in the Book of Revelation. In Scripture Union's introduction to this study, they made an interesting observation:

Most of us are not familiar with the conventions of apocalyptic writing, but it is clear that the first followers of Jesus were quite at home with it: note the puzzled response of the disciples when Jesus used parables (Matthew 13:10), yet their happy acceptance of His apocalyptic teaching (Matthew 24:1-44)!

Could that be the result of cultural differences? The disciples were Jews with laws and traditions governing every aspect of their lives, ceremonies and moral regulations meant to draw their minds and hearts to the God who was their very Author. They acknowledged that their future, in every facet of life rested in His hands. Maybe their fondness for all things apocalyptic was chronological. They were discovering their long-awaited Messiah. What would He do? What would this new era bring? And parables? They might resonate more with us because of our perspective: we have more technical insight, more historical context. Perhaps the difference was spiritual. Were the disciples more comfortable in the spirit world: faith, hope, things unseen? 

Why are we so inclined toward object lessons, relatable stories? Because we can see them or experience them for ourselves? Why are we less inclined toward that which is to come? As a society, we don't talk so much about "what will be," at least not the things out of our control. Climate change is all about controlling outcomes; we'll talk about that all day long-- but the weather? Even we are skeptical when we check the local forecast --so much so that we tend to take it with a grain of salt and focus instead on our back-up plan. Death and illness: we've got a hundred different types of insurance, prepaid funeral expenses, long-term care facilities. But how often do we slam the door when someone starts talking what happens after we die? Even the heroin and fentanyl epidemic that exists minutes from most of our front doors is all about controlling things that feel out of control. The sad irony is, those trying to escape that which they feel is out of their control immerse themselves in a world that is out of their control, morbidly so. But let's not talk about that.

Maybe we don't talk about things to come because we are too satisfied with what we have. Maybe we are so embedded in the lives we lead now, the breaths we take each day on this earth, that we aren't compelled to look for something better. We have a great family and lots of friends. We've just returned from the perfect vacation. We're helping and serving others. This is all there is: make the most of it!

Maybe the opposite is true: maybe we have lost our hope. Why hope when nothing good can come of it? Without faith in the existence of a benevolent and knowable God, how can we have faith for anything else? How can we find comfort --or at the least, curiosity-- in talking about things to come? When our hope is Jesus, we have a sure foundation; when our hope is settled on that which we see, it's not much hope at all.

As usual, I'm not speaking as someone who has all things mastered. In fact, the opposite is true. When I read my devotional this morning, I was convicted by my lack of interest in what happens next. I was convicted by the infrequency with which I fix my eyes on the glory to come. I was convicted by how deeply I bury myself in the day's affairs rather than revel in the baptism of a Spirit so close I can see things with eternal eyes. I hope you will join with me in examining our perspective, repenting of our short-sightedness and dependence upon the natural, and experiencing all that has been done, is being made new, and will in God's timing be!