Midweek: Dragon Slayer

Once upon a time, there was a valiant knight. He was known throughout all the land as the Slayer of Serpents, the Deliverer of Damsels, and the Protector of All Things Pure. There was not a foe who could defeat him. That is, until a dragon came calling.

The knight was spending an afternoon sparring with some squires. Training was arduous work; his muscles ached, and his armor chafed his skin. Sweat flowed from his brow and burned his eyes. His sword seemed to grow heavier with each thrust. Suddenly, the sky grew dark, and the wind began to swirl. The squires fled, but the knight drew himself up and stood fearless, armed and ready to meet his foe should he dare to show himself. Dare, he did, and a dragon lunged forth out of the darkness and leaned slowly toward the valiant champion's ear. 

Lay down your weapons, O valiant one, the beast goaded. 

Do you think me a fool? I will not, was the knight's reply.

Pick up this razor wire instead, said the fiend. It is a much better tool against me in the hands of an adversary such as yourself. I need not tell you how to use it to slay me; you are able and mighty. Surely you know that by wrapping yourself and all of your world in it, you would be safe from harm. If I so much as dare to come near you or those you love, I would be sliced to ribbons and meet my fate. I would be gone, and you would be a greater victor than you are today.

The cavalier looked at the razor wire. I could wrap all I love in this. The enemy can hardly help himself; he will charge me and be decimated upon it. He will lie down in eternal sleep and torment no one again.

And with that, the fearless knight flung his shield, wrenched off his armor, threw his sword to the ground, and picked up the razor wire. It cut him mercilessly as he wrapped it around his arms, his legs, his torso. He set to work, binding the whole of the kingdom tightly within its grip. It dug into his flesh and the flesh of those he loved as he wrapped each one tightly again and again. He became more entangled as he toiled, and the razor wire slowly severed his limbs; the pain was excruciating, but he pressed on believing this vile bondage to be not only the better weapon, but now, the only weapon. There was no turning back: just a few more twists and all the kingdom, thoroughly swathed, would see the dragon meet his demise!

But the dragon simply leaned back and smiled. All the knight loved, every bit of himself was bound and bloody, slashed and torn within the razor-sharp mass. The kingdom and its inhabitants were broken and weak. The once courageous warrior was a shell of his former self, his blood running in streams to the feet of the hideous beast. And pleased with the offering, the dragon lapped it up as he stared straight into the fading eyes of the collapsed hero.

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For those caught in addiction, for those who have sought to mitigate their pain and trauma, their fear and angst through the abuse of substances, the story of the knight is no fable. His choices were foolish; he believed an obvious lie. But he had a voracious appetite for normalcy and a willingness to try anything at his disposal. He was tenacious, pushing on in the nonsensicality of the scheme, hoping things would, at some point be turned around, even though he'd chosen the worst path possible. The razor wire of addiction begins with a lie. This just might work. This is just for now. Those caught in addiction are some of the most hopeful people I know: their hope, however, is in the worst of solutions. What follows is a harsh dose of reality, as the first cuts are made.  And the lie no longer holds any enticement, no promise of victory. Only failure. You have failed your people, you have failed your kingdom, you have failed yourself. The bonds of shame are sure to hold them in the razor wire's grip. But a greater Hero, the One True King can set them free! 

The Lord gives freedom to the prisoners.

The Lord opens the eyes of the blind;

The Lord raises those who are bowed down;

The Lord loves the righteous.

The Lord watches over the strangers;

He relieves the fatherless and widow;

Psalm 146:7-9

God's Grace Takes Hold

This morning I began wrestling with the idea of salvation and eternity. Not so much the benefits --who wouldn't want escape from hell? who wouldn't want to "dwell in the house of the Lord forever?" --but the exchange. My spirit for a The Holy Spirit. My sinful --sin-filled, entirely corrupt, putrid, dead spirit exchanged for eternal life in Christ, a new identity. Still sounds like a no-brainer, right? But here's the twisted part of my old nature, this spirit I was to have given up, abandoned, in exchange for new life: I still cling to it. From time to time, I still feel it's mine to correct, condition, control --whatever it is. 

We are triune beings after the image of our Creator. We have a soul, a personality. We have a physical body with senses like sight, smell, touch, taste and hearing; our physical body is grounded in the natural things of our existence. And, we have a spirit, an eternal existence that functions in a spiritual world, unseen and, for believers, in union with God's Spirit. Now we know it's important to protect our bodies, to care for our bodies. As for the soul, who we are, there is not another you in all the world and our soul is unique unto ourselves. But what is the spirit? It is the means by which God's Spirit communicates to us, the place from which our worship is to flow, the place within our bodies where God dwells, and the life's breath, its animating force. But is it mine? Scripture tells us, we are not our own. Not our personality, not our body, not our spirit. All of it is a gift. Our personality is a gift from our Creator who has given to us and developed within us specific likes and dislikes, opinions and experiences to be used for His glory. The guy "with the knack" for fixing things; the lady who just loves to bake. Souls intentionally imbued by God with gifts to serve others and to enjoy His presence. Our bodies are vehicles, enabling us to carry His Spirit, spread the good news of the Gospel, create beauty, extend warmth and compassion, consummate a marriage, bear and deliver life, be ambassadors of Christ for His glory and the enjoyment of His presence. But what is the spirit? Who determines what goes on in there?

At some point in my life, I gave everything over to the Lord. Take it; it's Yours. My old nature did terrible things with her body. My old nature had some really bad personality traits. And that is not to say I have in some way arrived; but I know I am not the same person. And I'm okay with that. My spirit, however, what's with her? There's a day coming when I will no longer breathe --my physical body will cease to function. We all tend to accept that on some level --if not accept it, at least realize it. Have you had that child who wouldn't eat anything without ketchup? One of ours studied nutrition in college. Talk about a 180! Just as we are aware our bodies change over time, we know our souls will also. What control, however, do I have over the spirit within me? What does it mean to have this nature, this life force within us that we can't quite put our finger on? When we can't even comprehend things like "eternity" or the true meaning of "supernatural," how do we understand the significance of something like "spirit?" 

Here's the conclusion to which I have come: the spirit in me, my spirit if you will, is that part of me that reflects the third person of the trinity, God's Holy Spirit. It's the part of me that is connected to Him; He is the tie that binds. When given over to the One True God, His Spirit works to sync the spirit in me up with Him; to love what He loves, to long for those things that bring Him glory, to crave His presence, to empty itself out in adoration of Him. When that spirit in me was not given over to Him, there was no answer to its cries but the voice of whatever wind was set to blowing; love was shallow and fickle, the longings of this spirit were undirected and unanswered, I craved something (I know now it was His presence, but for that time it was marked by an emptiness I could not define), and adoration --true adoration was impossible, as nothing in this world was worthy of it. And this spirit which remains in this body, expressed by the framework of this soul is no more mine than any other part of me. However, unlike those things which shift and change with physiology and the introduction of new external experiences, this spirit, now relinquished to --not on loan to, not sometimes under the control of --relinquished to my Lord and Savior, is changed by His power and His grace. A dead spirit, made alive through Christ, always improving by the power of His Spirit, providing I remain pliable and within reach of His grace. And that's my job, that's what I control --positioning myself close to Him at all times. That is grace. Thanks be to God for His unspeakable gift!

God's Sovereignty and Our Gratitude

In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
1 Thessalonians 5:18 

Be honest, have you ever, in your mind, under your breath, added a "BUT" after that? At some point, we probably all have. Let me draw your attention to Psalm 30:1-3. Robert Alter, in his translation, renders these verses this way:

I shall exalt You, LORD, for You drew me up,
and You gave no joy to my enemies.
LORD, my God,
I cried to You and You healed me.
LORD, You brought me up from Sheol,
gave me life from those gone down to the pit.

In his commentary, Alter says a) drew me up is as water from the dark depths of a well, and b) gave me life from those gone down to the pit suggests that of all who go down to death, he alone was raised to life. What a picture of grace! Of God's sovereign work in calling us, but in drawing us as well! I often joke that our dog is an obedience school dropout. Truthfully, I am the dropout. The behaviors I never enforced or continued to practice diligently with her have, to her, become optional. Come! is one of those commands. However, if I were to begin reinforcing this, going back to the basics and making it worth her while to come (IOW: luring her with treats), Luci would readily obey. It's not enough to call her, until she is reminded of what benefits lie in being with me, I must draw her.

God's calling us is an act of mercy; putting our names on His roll call from before we were even conceived. But His act of drawing us takes things to a whole other level! With Luci, the command to Come! could save her from danger. The command to Come! could be very beneficial to her when followed by treats or scratches or a ride in the car. Her name is on my roll, she is mine; but in calling her, drawing her to me, even luring her --making acquiescence worth her while, I am blessing her and saving her from danger. Does she have the option to refuse? Certainly. But as her guardian and friend, I am going to do everything in my power to make coming to me irresistible! This is God's sovereign grace for His chosen! Out of His great mercy, He has called us to be His; by His grace, He draws us that we might know His infinite goodness and be saved from eternal death.

I cried to You and You healed me. I'm not sure we have the capacity in our language, or perhaps in general, to express what I think is going on here. We --especially in Western culture --have this underlying attitude of autonomy; we imagine we are sovereign. We cry out, and God reacts. But we are not sovereign, and God does not react. To react means that someone or something has provoked a response; control lies with the initial actor. If that is the case, what about the concepts of calling and drawing that surround this verse? How can God draw us from Hell, but when it comes to healing the common cold, we launch Him into action with our petitions?

I had cancer. I don't ever recall praying for God to heal me in that time, yet He did. Now, I'm gonna be honest, I know He healed me. Do I feel it was God and God alone? Do I feel this great act of mercy imparted to me? No, I don't. I believe, that by not praying for healing, I missed the boat. My brain knows it was God, but what the hardness of my heart says is, it was a very treatable form of cancer and caught very early in the game. It is God who is sovereign --not doctors or cancer, but my heart was not conditioned through prayer to receive that. Have you prayed for every hangnail or backache you've ever had? Probably not, yet you've been healed. We all mentally chalk these things up to the way our bodies work. Hangnails aren't forever. Backaches, hopefully, only last a day or so. No big deal, right? But prayer, crying out to God positions us in a place of surrender and nearness to Him as we endure the pain and inconvenience of those "ordinary" ailments. I cried out to You because You allowed this illness, and it was a glorious opportunity to be nearer to You than I would have been without it; and You healed me. Prayer also prepares our hearts and minds to give God the glory when we are healed. Because I cried out to You, I know You alone healed me. This is so much more than a response! This is a sovereign God using everything in His power to draw us because He has called us! In everything give thanks! 

If we belong to the Sovereign God who put us here, there is no reason to place a "BUT" after the imperative of giving thanks. He has called us; He uses whatever means necessary to draw us. He doesn't respond to our requests as though we are switching on a light; we respond to Him because He has touched our hearts. In His presence, we can know the joy and safety of being near Him, and we can give Him thanks exhaustively! 

Midweek: Never Forget

Never forget. That used to be the mantra for this day, but it seems we have. I'm not entirely sure it was a good slogan either. I mean, Remember the Maine at least told you what to remember. A date which will live in infamy was a catchphrase that alluded to something sinister which had occurred. But Never forget? Never forget what? The images of selfless heroes rushing toward chaos and death everyone else ran from? The tales of mothers and fathers who simply went to work on an ordinary day expecting ordinary water cooler exchanges and ordinary deadlines and ordinary hugs from their children when they came home, but their day was cut savagely short? The images of burning, collapsing icons to capitalism and western engineering? The hate that caused Middle Eastern Americans to live in fear for years afterward? The flags waving, the rousing speeches, the national pride, the care of neighbor for neighbor that swept our country? Or the prayers, the moments of silence, the churches brimming with people turning to God for answers? 

Song of Solomon 2:4 says, He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love.

SIDEBAR: Song of Solomon (or Song of Songs, as it is sometimes known) is one of those books of the Bible we rarely dig into. The language is sensual, and we may wonder what place that has in the Bible. I think our society has so perverted sex and sexuality, many of us don't know what God's intentions are and, amidst the busyness and pressure of our public lives, we neglect to settle down, savor, and explore all God has given us in our private lives. Shame over our ignorance prevents us from discussing it, and the lack of discussion increases shame. I would highly recommend you spend some time in the Song of Songs. Simon Amadeus Pillario's Song of Songs:Word for Word Bible Comic is a wonderful resource. You can see my review here. In the meantime, know that in side-stepping this beautiful book, much is lost.

So, back to the point. The Song of Solomon is a poetic book. Some scholars adhere to the idea it was included in Scripture because it is God's love letter to us, the Church, and our heart's deepest desire for a love only He can give; others believe its greatest value lies in the relationship between its human author and his Shulamite love --a "lyrical rhapsody to marital love and lovemaking," according to The Complete Jewish Study Bible. Regardless, this verse in chapter two has the young woman recalling the benevolent hospitality of her kingly lover. She, a servant and tender of (smelly) sheep, has been taken into the king's palace, and a banquet has been thrown to honor her. She has been introduced to all present as his queen. His grace toward her overwhelms, and she remembers his lavish esteem for her.   

In his commentary on this verse, Matthew Henty observes "Eaten bread must not be forgotten, but remembered with thankfulness to the God who fed us." Wow! That bread had its origins in the labor of the farmer and the earth and the baker and the customer and the server. People worked hard that others might eat. And God is the ultimate Provider of rain and health and the blessedness of yeast that rises to perfection (if you've ever made bread, you know that's not always the case).  How easy it is to forget that which we have experienced when the experience is a part of our yesterday. How easy it is to forget the taste of our last meal when we feel hunger again. How easy it is to forget that God has been so good, so generous, so kind, so faithful when our eyes are on devilish circumstances. The salvation purchased for us at Calvary is enough for us to praise His name for all eternity. If He had redeemed us from our obligation to the eternal consequence of our sin (death), it would have been enough. We deserved not one drop of His blood. BUT He did so much more! We were redeemed for something, redeemed to something --a new life in Christ! A life in which we are given the privilege of bringing others to the foot of the cross to be reconciled with God through Jesus. A life in which we can overcome the circumstances of our cursed world with peace that is better than understanding and joy that no word can describe. A life in which we are servants --gladly --to this most benevolent and in-love-with-us King. A life in which we can cast off the physical --comfort, money, relationships, addictions, freedoms, dreams, popularity, even our very lives --if need be, for the sake of eternal glory. Mercy upon mercy! Grace upon grace! Indeed, let us never forget.

Lord, give us this day our daily bread, and may we fix our minds on the One who labored at the cross that we might join Him at His table.