What a Pleasant Surprise!

Fourteen years ago, I participated in the 53rd Walk to Emmaus. I recently came across one of my old journals in which I recorded my thoughts on the weekend. For the sake of the program, I won't go into any details about the walk (the effectiveness of the program depends on sleep deprivation and secrets kept. IYKYK). I will, however, say that the secrecy, the element of surprise woven throughout the weekend is something of a picture of our journey with Christ. We move through moments and obligations relying fully on Jesus to direct us and provide for us; He does --always --but I described this journey as "leading a life of pleasant surprises." Pleasant surprises? Who was I kidding? A weekend in a safe place, in a beautiful setting, with people who are encouraging you, feeding you --body, soul, and spirit --and lavishing love on you... Of course it's full of pleasant surprises! But life? 

Life is hardship and miracles, frustration and pleasant surprises, upheaval and transformation. The hardship, the frustration, the upheaval, they're easy to spot most days. To see the miracles, the pleasant surprises, the transformation, the mercy, the grace, the benevolence, to see the things of a good God in a broken and corrupt world, we have to be very intentional. Not because they are not here or they remain hidden, but because our new nature is always developing, and we enter this world with a fully developed old nature. Our old nature fits right in, is inclined to notice and follow the siren songs of a broken and corrupt world. Our old nature is predilected to pessimism and doubt, cynicism and hopelessness, self-centeredness and discontent. 

But our new nature, given to us when we choose to follow after Christ, is engaged in an uphill battle with a world that despises it, a self that rejects it, and an Enemy that will do everything in his power to snuff it out. Our new nature is the imitation of Christ, the fruit of His Holy Spirit, the means by which we glorify our Heavenly Father. Our new nature unfolds its wings like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, sticky, wet, and awkward; not able to bear the weight of our own bodies. But in time and with testing, the wings of our new nature unfold and carry us to places we never would have dreamed. We speak differently to ourselves and others. We see God at work in even the most difficult circumstances. We forget the things of the past and fix our eyes on our future in eternity with our Savior. We become "seasoned saints," tried and tested, equipped, bringing glory and honor to the Father by our testimony. When life throws us curveballs, when we are staring into uncertainty, when the world is railing against us, we rely on Jesus to direct us and provide all we need. His presence is constant and consistent. And with hearts surrendered to Him, eyes trained on Him, our new nature matures, strengthens, and usurps the worldly narrative. Our old nature falls away, we no longer see life through the lens given us at birth, but with a perspective imparted to us at the new birth, we begin to lead a life of pleasant surprises! 

Midweek: The Prodigal Son (Part Four)

This is it! (I think) The last installment on The Prodigal Son. I'd like to call this The Long Road Home. Now, that may seem a bit strange; Jesus' story goes from starvation to realization very quickly. In fact, we left the younger son, The Prodigal as he is typically known, famished and eyeing up the dry empty husks he was feeding swine. In the very next verse of Jesus' story (v.17) the young man realizes the bitter irony of his situation: How many of my father’s hired servants have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! But verses don't always give a clear indication of time, and this being just a story to teach, that's hardly a point over which we should argue. However, I do know my own sin, and I do know what a stronghold pride can be. In this young man's life, it was definitely a stronghold --so much so he demanded from his father what was meant to be a benevolent gift; so much so he compromised his adherence to Jewish law and fed pigs; so much so he attached himself to a stranger who was unwilling, even, to feed him. But one day, he came to himself. Now, other Bible translations use phrases like "came to his senses," but coming to the end of oneself seems to have a little less to do with waking up from a knock on the head and more to do with finding oneself at a precipice, driven there by self-aggrandizing thoughts; one is left with no choice but to jump into the unknown or be consumed. Coming to the end of oneself seems to be a crossroads of radical truth and self-destruction. We begin to understand that in the grand scheme of things, I am nothing, despite the delusions upon which I have built my life. It's not overwrought self-deprecation, mind you, but an honest look at how one compares to the God of the universe. I am nothing. Unworthy in and of myself. Incapable in and of myself. Of little consequence, in and of myself. With time --how much time we can only imagine --this young rebel came to the end of himself. Praise God!  

And the father rejoiced. Verse 20 tells us, when he --the son --was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him. Bear in mind this son had gone to a far-off country, had spent his time living prodigally until his resources were expended, had witnessed the onset of a famine, endured it to whatever extent, and had spent some time thinking critically about himself. Nevertheless, his father saw him coming from a long way off. Reason being, and I think this is a crucial part of Jesus' message to us, the father never stopped watching expectantly for him. This my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found (v. 24). Oh, what rejoicing! What celebration! Can you imagine God, the Father, rejoicing at your return?

One of my favorite verses, Zephaniah 3:17 says:

The Lord your God is with you,
    the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
    in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
    but will rejoice over you with singing.

Imagine the depths of God's love! That he would sing over His people; forgiving offenses, welcoming rebels, saving the condemned, and singing over those who were once enemies, those who have been restored to relationship by the blood of His Son! The father in Jesus' parable --a mere glimpse, a human representation of our Heavenly Father --orders to be brought the best robe, a ring, new shoes, and the calf his servants had been fattening for this very occasion, the return of his child. He is filled with joy. He wastes not one second in calling for a celebration. And they began to make merry. 

That is, all but one.

Well, it looks like this parable has a few more lessons for us. See you right back here next Wednesday for the next installment. In the meantime, enjoy more posts every Monday and Thursday.

Signs of God's Mercy

So the king of Israel and Jehoshaphat the king of Judah went up to Ramoth Gilead. And the king of Israel said to Jehoshaphat, “I will disguise myself and go into battle; but you put on your robes.” So the king of Israel disguised himself, and they went into battle.

Now the king of Syria had commanded the captains of the chariots who were with him, saying, “Fight with no one small or great, but only with the king of Israel.”
~ 2 Chronicles 18:28-30

If I had been given the task of editing a translation of the Bible, I might have subtitled this section With Friends Like Ahab... or, maybe, Here's Your Sign (although there might be some copyright issues with that one). But first, the backstory. King Ahab of Israel and King Jehoshaphat of Judah had made an alliance through marriage. Ahab was having some issues with the king of Syria and requested Jehoshaphat's help in going to war. Nations do that all the time. So far, so good, right? Well, Jehoshaphat climbed on board --I mean, immediately. 

KA: Will you?
KJ: Mi casa es su casa. (Or something to that effect.)

But then, an afterthought! Jehoshaphat suggested the kings consult God on the matter. Most of Ahab's prophets gave him the go-ahead. That is, all but one. (There's always one.) This prophet, Macaiah, had a habit of speaking truth; so, he did. He prophesied that Israel would be scattered on the mountains, as sheep that have no shepherd (v. 16). "No shepherd" was prophet-speak for "no king": Ahab would die. But this was a clear demonstration of God's mercy toward Jehoshaphat. The king of Judah had failed to concern himself with God's plan until after he'd given his word. Macaiah's words provided a golden opportunity for Jehoshaphat to plead with Israel's king to abandon this foolishness. Apparently, he did not.

Defiant ears and hardened hearts sentenced Macaiah to the pokey. King Ahab and King Jehoshaphat went to war with Syria. This is where the above reading picks up: Jehoshaphat treating God as an afterthought, pledging his men and his aid to Ahab, and then being told to play decoy against a rival king. How merciful was God to show Jehoshaphat King Ahab had no concern for him whatsoever?! This was a ginormous sign he was somewhere he was never meant to be! Nevertheless, King Jehoshaphat complied with the scheme:

So it was, when the captains of the chariots saw Jehoshaphat, that they said, “It is the king of Israel!” Therefore they surrounded him to attack; but Jehoshaphat cried out, and the Lord helped him, and God diverted them from him. For so it was, when the captains of the chariots saw that it was not the king of Israel, that they turned back from pursuing him. (verses 31, 32)

Jehoshaphat was spared. Ahab was not, and Israel was, as Macaiah had foretold, like sheep without a shepherd; a random draw of the bow delivered the arrow that mortally wounded the king of Israel. Jehoshaphat, in his kingly robes, walked away, being given yet another chance to seek God first in all his dealings. Mercy. 

I'd just like to leave you with some questions first, questions that came to mind as I read this, ones I've asked of myself again and again:

How obvious was it that Jehoshaphat didn't belong on that battlefield? Did Jehoshaphat not see the signs, or simply choose to ignore them? Has anything like this ever happened to you? What blinded you to truth? What truth did you choose to ignore? 

And, secondly, I want to leave you with the assurance that God is merciful --merciful and just, so He's not to be toyed with; but He is merciful. If you have failed as Jehoshaphat did, I would encourage you to embrace the lesson, renounce the shame, and repent --choose to never make God an afterthought again.