Monthly Archives: December 2018

DTEB, “FOLLOW THE LEADER”

DTEB, “FOLLOW THE LEADER”

Jesus had just asked his disciples about his identity.  “Who do other people say that I am?” (Mark8:27)  After the disciples replied, Jesus asked them another question: “What about you?  Who do you say that I am?” (v. 29)  Peter answered, “You are the Messiah.” (v.30)

But immediately, Jesus began to teach his disciples that he, the Messiah, must suffer and die.  (v. 31) 

Naturally, Peter did not like this turn of events.  So, he took Jesus aside and basically said to Jesus, “Never!” (v. 32)  Jesus proceeded to call Peter “Satan,” since Peter was opposing Jesus.  (The word “satan” basically means “adversary.”)

It is a profoundly strange and disturbing account.  If you do not find it strange and disturbing, you probably haven’t taken it very seriously.

And then, as if all this isn’t enough, Jesus calls the whole crowd and all his disciples together in order to generalize his teaching.  This business of suffering and death isn’t just for Jesus.  It isn’t just for Peter and the boys.  It is for us all.

34And calling the crowd to him with his disciples, he said to them, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. 35 For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it. 36 For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul? 37 For what can a man give in return for his soul? 38 For whoever is ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him will the Son of Man also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.” (Mark 8:34-38)

R. Alan Cole has some simple but wonderful words concerning Jesus’ words about taking up our cross and following him.

“So the Lord warns all the crowd, not just his professed disciples, that to follow him means to deny all natural inclinations and to ‘shoulder one’s stake’. ‘Stake’ in modern English preserves the association of shameful death better than cross does. Compare 10:39 for the equally solemn words of Jesus to James and John as to the cost of discipleship. The thought is plain to every child playing the game of ‘follow my leader’, in which there is only one rule, that no follower shirks going to any place where the leader has first gone. Ultimately, to the Christian, this following of Jesus becomes the hope of heaven, since our leader has already gone there (Heb. 6:19–20): but first comes the cross. ‘No cross, no crown’ is a pithy piece of theology which must have been ever-present in the minds of the early Christians at Rome and other centres of persecution.”[1]

But, of course, following Jesus is no child’s game, is it?  Still, there really is only one rule.  Cole is right about that.  The rule is FOLLOW JESUS!

And where does Jesus go?  He goes to the lost, to the least.  He goes to help and not to judge.  Eventually, he goes to the cross.

I don’t like this aspect of Christianity.  I really don’t.  I like feeling good.  I like having my own way.  I like the way of self-affirmation, rather than the way of self-denial.

On the other hand, this self-denial aspect is central to the Christian faith.  And notice this: Ultimately, the goal of self-denial is that we might find ourselves in Christ.  Those who deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow Jesus “save their souls.”  I take it that the soul here is another term for our real, essential selves.  When you decide to follow someone, the proper question is not “Are you taking me on a road that is pleasant and easy?”  The question is “Are you taking me somewhere good.”  The destination is the thing.

Human wisdom says, “Get all you can while the gettin’ is good!”  Jesus says the opposite.  “Give up everything.”  Who am I going to choose to believe?


[1]R. Alan Cole, Mark: An Introduction and Commentary, TNTC 1; 2d, IVP/Accordance electronic ed. (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1989), 211.

https://accordance.bible/link/read/Tyndale_Commentary#42836

“AN UNBALANCED QUEST FOR BALANCE”


The other day, in my daily report to my twelve-step sponsor, I included my daily affirmation:

Today, by God’s grace, I am living a balanced and healthy life all around—spiritually, relationally, mentally, work-wise, and physically.  Today, I am balance.

With a nod to one of our favorite musical groups, The Moody Blues (and their albumn “A Question of Balance”), Bob replied as follows:

“No Question of Balance?

Wishing you a well balanced day.”

Another twelve-step friend and I often pray for one another for balance.  Ironically, after my e mail exchange with my sponsor, another friend pointed out something obvious this morning.  It was, in fact, so obvious that I had never thought of.  “Sometimes, we pursue balance in a very unbalanced way.”

True that !

Aristotle and others have lauded “the golden mean” as the ideal for human virtue.  For example, go too far in the direction of courage, and you become reckless.  Go too far in the direction of caution, and you become cowardly.

But what if the golden mean—that is, balance itself—becomes an unbalanced obsession?  At this point, a body is in serious trouble.  Obsession with balance is not balance.  It is simply another obsession.

I doubt that anyone is born balanced.  My wife and I had four little creatures we helped to bring into the world.  I don’t remember that any of them were very balanced when they were learning to sit up.  The same when they were learning to walk.

And then there were the teen years, not a stage in life known for balance for any of us.

So, how do I—how do we—pursue balance in a balanced manner?  It is much easier for me to raise the question of balance than it is for me to answer it.  Perhaps that, in and of itself, is an important affirmation.  Perhaps my sponsor’s tongue-in-cheek allusion to The Moody Blues “A Question of Balance” is part of the answer to my dilemma concerning balance.  Balance will always be a questionable quest.

That said, one possible way of thinking about balance is in terms of riding a bike.  I came very late to riding a bike.  I was probably in the third or fourth grade before I learned to ride.

Why was I so late learning how to ride?  Now that I think about it, there were at least two reasons that were somewhat different and somewhat related.

First, I lived on a farm with uneven ground and a (sometimes) graveled driveway.  Such rough terrain is not natural bike country, especially for a beginner.

I have discovered that life itself is rough terrain.  There are lots of environmental realities that make balance a challenge.  It is best to recognize them.  As someone has said, “Just because you’re paranoid, it doesn’t mean that people really aren’t out to get you.”  It is not always our fault that balance is often difficult to pursue in a balanced manner.

But the second reason I was late in learning to ride a bike is something that is more personal and harder to confess: I was afraid.  I was sure that I was going to fail, that I was going to fall.  Why start something when you know you’re going to fail?

Sure enough, I did fall—a lot.  However, in the process of processing numerous falls, I discovered something: Falling and failing are not the same thing.  And before long, I was riding a bike pretty well!

One further thought: Riding a bike is never a matter of perfect balance.  Rather, it is a matter of a lot of mid-course corrections.  You lean to the left, you lean to the right.  You lean forward, you lean back.  Balance is making a lot of small changes in what you’re doing.

And, of course, it is nigh on impossible to balance on a bicycle when I’m not in motion.  If I become obsessed with balance, I’m like a kid sitting on a bike, but not going anywhere.  If I am in motion in the direction I think God wants me to go, balance will still be a challenge.  But it will be possible.

“WINNING BY WITHDRAWING”

Rabbi Abraham said:

“I have learned a new form of service from the wars of Frederick, king of Prussia.  It is not necessary to approach the enemy in order to attack him.  In fleeing from him, it is possible to circumvent him as he advances, and fall on him from the rear until he is forced to surrender.  What is needed is not to strike straight at Evil but to withdraw to the sources of divine power, and from there to circle around Evil, bend it, and transform it into its opposite.”  (Martin Buber, Tales of the Hasidim, volume 1, page 115)

Andy Stanley made a similar point in a podcast he calls, “You Might Also Like.”  He says that you can’t overcome the temptation of greed by saying, “I’m not going to be greedy!  I’m not going to be greedy!”  Rather, we overcome greed by . . .  Well, frankly, you need to listen to his podcast on You Tube.

I have tried too often frontal assaults on the evil that assaults me.  How many times has that actually worked?  I don’t know precisely, but I’m pretty sure it’s somewhere between zero and nil.

Do you remember an old cartoon strip called “Cathy”?  Cathy was a single young lady who was always going on diets.  In every frame of the cartoon segments that chronicled her diets, she gained weight.  I can identify.

So, perhaps it would be good if we tried Rabbi Abraham’s approach and Andy Stanley’s approach.  Perhaps we should withdraw to God.  Maybe life wasn’t meant to be lived by ourselves.

Even if you don’t believe in God—and who of us really does believe in God all that much—you can act as if there is a God.  Take the empirical approach.  The Scripture says, “Taste and see that the LORD is good” (Psalm 34:8a)

What have got to lose?  I mean, besides the chronic losses you suffer when you attack your problems head-on?  Withdraw to the source of your strength, of all strength.  Your attack might go much better when you have done that.

DTEB, “THE CONTEXT OF SCRIPTURE, COMPARING SCRIPTURE WITH SCRIPTURE”

“The words of king Lemuel, the prophecy that his mother taught him. What, my son? and what, the son of my womb? and what, the son of my vows?Give not thy strength unto women, nor thy ways to that which destroyeth kings. It is not for kings, O Lemuel, it is not for kings to drink wine; nor for princes strong drink: Lest they drink, and forget the law, and pervert the judgment of any of the afflicted. Give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish, and wine unto those that be of heavy hearts. Let him drink, and forget his poverty, and remember his misery no more. Open thy mouth for the dumb in the cause of all such as are appointed to destruction. Open thy mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and needy.”  (Proverbs 31:1–9 KJV)

Sometimes, I think that we read the Bible in a very isolated manner.  It is not that we can’t get something good out of such a practice.  I have certainly benefited from such isolated readings.  However, when we put Scripture with Scripture, the Scriptures really sizzle.

For example, here is an e mail exchange with a class I am teaching right now:

“Dear Fellow Students,

Concerning the matter of vows that we were trying to get at with Accordance yesterday:  I thought that, perhaps, the fact that King Lemuel’s mother referred to him as “son of my vows” (Proverbs 31:2) might suggest that she had been unable to conceive a child, and had made vows to God, as did Hannah, the mother or Samuel (1 Samuel 1).  You will recall that I couldn’t get the “key number search” to work in the ESV with Strong’s number.  This morning, I tried the same thing with the KJV with Strong’s number, and it went through just fine.

And, sure enough, 1 Samuel 1:11 does have the same Hebrew word for “vow” as is found in Prov. 31:2!  This doesn’t prove that King Lemuel’s mother had been barren before he was born, but it does strengthen the case for this.

How might this interpretation change the way we read King Lemuel’s mother’s instructions to him?  Or would it?

Reply to this e mail with a brief response, and I will give you a few extra-credit points—even if all you say is “I have no idea!”

Here is my e mail reply to a student who replied, but had no idea:

“Well done!  You demonstrate that you actually read my e mails.  I can tell you from bitter experience that not all students do that.

Here is what I suspect:

IF King Lemuel’s mother was indeed (like Hannah) barren before she had her son, and IF she conceived him after she made those vows (as Hannah did), THEN her advice to him about not boozing it up or being a lady’s man takes on an added urgency.  Also, in a positive vein, what King Lemuel is supposed to do (speaking up for those who can’t speak up for themselves and judging fairly) also takes on an added urgency.

It is as if she is saying, “Son, you almost didn’t even exist!  Had it not been for my vows and God’s intervention, you wouldn’t even be around—much less, king!  So, listen to my words well:  Kings don’t need to be self-indulgent, sexually immoral, boozers.  No!  They need to be fair, especially to those who are the most vulnerable.

Make sense?”

Now, of course, the word IF above needs to be given its full value.  Interpretation is not an exact science.  Scholars who pretend it is are not scholars—just pretenders.  But putting these Scriptures together might make sense.

God’s Written Word is wonderful, even in isolation. However, perhaps we should introduce Scriptures to one another, and let them at least date.  Who knows?  They may end up getting married, and having children.  Ultimately, the Bible is both a library of books and one book.

“LET’S US BE THE HEROES”

DTEB, “LET’S US BE THE HEROES”

 

We all love heroes.  Some of us even love superheroes.  And probably most of us sometimes fantasize about being heroes or superheroes.

However, perhaps we need to redefine what a hero is.  The words of an old Tina Turner song come to mind:

“Out of the ruins, out from the wreckage
Can’t make the same mistakes this time
We are the children, the last generation
We are the ones they left behind
And I wonder when we are ever gonna change?
Living under the fear, till nothing else remains

We don’t need another hero,
We don’t need to know the way home
All we want is life beyond the Thunderdome

Looking for something we can rely on
There’s got to be something better out there.
Mmmm, love and compassion, their day is coming
All else are castles built in the air
And I wonder when we are ever gonna change?
Living under the fear, till nothing else remains.

All the children say,
We don’t need another hero,
We don’t need to know the way home
All we want is life beyond the Thunderdome

So what do we do with our lives?
We leave only a mark.
Will our story shine like a light,
Or end in the dark?
Give it all or nothing!

We don’t need another hero,
We don’t need to know the way home
All we want is life beyond the Thunderdome

All the children say,
We don’t need another hero,
We don’t need to know the way home
All we want is life beyond the Thunderdome”
(the lyrics from “We Don’t Need Another Hero,” the theme song from the movie “Mad Max Beyond the Thunderdome”)
But there is another way to think about heroism.  Perhaps the real heroes are simply those who do their jobs, those who fulfill their roles to the best of their abilities every day.
I am reminded of a newly minted graduate from medical school, who invited my wife and me to his graduation party many years ago.  We were making small talk, and I confessed to him that I tried to avoid doctors as much as possible.  Like my dad before me, I had a suspicion that people who ran to the doctor for medicine for every little ache or pain ended up not living as long as they might have.  “I suppose, in view of our increased longevity, I should be more grateful for doctors than I am,” I said.
He looked very thoughtful and said, “Well, doctors may have played some small part in increased longevity, but you probably should thank the garbage men, more than the doctors.”
“Really?!” I said, furrowing my brow.  He didn’t seem to be putting me on.
“Yes, really,” he said.  He continued, “One of the main reasons we are living longer is that there aren’t as many of these terrible plagues that used to wipe out whole families.  And that is mainly because of better sanitation practices.  So, you see, the garbage collectors are the real heroes.”
Ever since then, I’ve had a great respect and appreciation for garbage collectors.  Whenever I see them, I thank them.
So, maybe a hero is just a person who does a necessary job as well as they can.  Are you working as a mine inspector?  Work diligently!  You are a hero!  Do you recruit nurses?  You are a hero!  Do you counsel those with emotional and mental problems?  You are a hero!  Do you teach?  You are a hero!  Do you take care of an aged, cranky mother?  You are a hero!  Do you write blogs?  You are a hero!
Do you do the dishes and make your bed?  You are a hero!  Do you drive defensively and courteously?  You are a hero!  Do you tell the truth, even when it portrays you in a bad light?  You are a hero!
Let’s us be heroes today!

“ON FINISHING OTHER PEOPLE’S SENTENCES”

I have a nasty tendency to finish other people’s sentences.  My wife pointed that out (very kindly and humbly, I might add) just the other night.  We were in the car, and had left our community group meeting.  My sweetheart started to say something, and I finished her sentence for her.

She immediately called me on that, but softened the blow a bit by saying, “I know that you get excited about the Scripture, and that’s why you do that.”  I’m not sure if she was right about that part.  She may have been crediting me with a good motivation that I don’t always have.

I got quiet.  At first, the quiet was a defensive quiet.  (What can I say that will put her in her place?!?)  But then, the quiet deepened into a more reflective quiet.  (What if she’s right?)  The final stage of my silence was a self-aware and honest quiet.  (Of course, she’s right!)

I do, in fact, finish people’s sentences for them.  And even if it is because I get excited about the topic of discussion, it is wrong.  I was able to acknowledge that fact to my sweetheart before we got home.

The next morning after breakfast, we were sharing our prayer requests for the day, as we do on many days.  I said, “Please pray that I will work on not . . .”  My wife interrupted and said, “. . . finishing people’s sentences.”  For a split second, I thought that she meant to do that, and was just making a very funny quip.  After all, I call her “Princess Quirky Humor” sometimes.  But the shocked look on her face told me that she had not done this intentionally.  No!  She had done the very thing that she had spoken to me about the night before, the very thing that I was requesting her to pray for this morning!

We both burst out laughing.  It was so funny!  I know that God understands the language of our tears and of our anger when we pray.  I hope that God also appreciates laughter in prayers.  I imagine he does.

It was several minutes before we got ourselves under control.  Every time my wife and I tried to look at one another, we began to laugh again.  It was a wonderful, sweet moment.

Every sin and stupidity is a reality that transcends gender, race, nationality, I.Q., and every other artificial distinction we make, to pretend that we are better than others.  Some of us may be worse or more prone to certain human vices, but we are, nonetheless, human.  Vice is an equal-opportunity employer.

That said, my wife is not very prone to interrupt or to finish other people’s sentences.  She is a quiet, thoughtful, courteous person.

In fact, as I was thinking about writing this blog post, it occurred to me that I might be at least partially at fault for her finishing my sentence.  Here is why:

Have you ever noticed that, if you hang around with someone who gossips, you find yourself gossiping more?  If you are spending time with someone who complains a lot, do you complain more than usual?  I could ask a lot more questions that obvious answers, but perhaps that’s enough.  If you hang around with someone who finishes other people’s sentences for them, you might . . . Well, I’ll let you finish that sentence.

So, at least in part, I may have been responsible for my wife’s interruption.

The Bible, especially the book of Proverbs, points out that we become like those with whom we associate.  Influence can be positive or negative.

Positively, consider the following: “The person who spends time with wise people becomes wise himself” (Proverbs 13:20, my paraphrase).

Negatively, “Do not make friends with a hot-tempered person, do not associate with one easily angered” (Proverbs 22:24, New International Version).

Influence is a powerful thing.  I need to pay attention to how others might be influencing me.  I also need to be aware of how I might be influencing others, and make sure that my influence is for the good.

I also need to pay attention to the wise rebukes of those who love me.  I can learn a lot by paying attention to the wise counsel of others.  I need to pay attention to what my wife says a lot more often than I do.  I could actually become a better person.

“DON’T TRY TO CATCH THE GERBIL!”

Melody Beattie tells a wonderful story in her book The Language of Letting Go.

Her son brought home a gerbil to live with them.  Sometime later, the gerbil escaped and eluded capture for the next six months.  Melody and her son would catch sight of the gerbil, and would scream, “Catch him!”  However, the gerbil was still on the lam.

Finally, she decided to give up.  If the gerbil wanted to live a reclusive life, let him!

Shortly after deciding to let go of her attempts to catch the critter, he stopped beside her chair one day.  She very gently stooped down, scooped up the gerbil, and put him back in his cage.

She concluded, “Detachment works.”

Yes, it does!  It works for catching runaway gerbils—when they are ready to be caught.

There are times when I think that I am the gerbil.  I am afraid to be caught, not realizing that what I call “being caught” might actually be a better version of freedom than my own furtive hiding and eating crumbs off the floor.

But I want to take this in another direction: Fear is why we run and why we hide.  Fear is also why we want desperately to catch and cage certain memories, certain feelings, certain relationships.

Perhaps, in a sense, fear is the gerbil.  Maybe we—maybe I—try too hard to track down, corner, and cage our fears.  Maybe we should just let them run wild for a while, until we become more accepting our fears, and they become more accepting of us.

President Franklin D. Roosevelt famously said that “We have nothing to fear, but fear itself.”  Maybe we don’t even need to fear our fears.

Much of the evil I’ve done in my life, evil to myself, others, and ultimately to God, has been primarily caused by my fears and my desire to control them.  I’ve wanted desperately to detach from my fears, when maybe what I have really needed to detach from was my desire to catch and cage my fears.

My new life-motto is “DON’T TRY TO CATCH THE GERBIL!

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