Getting to the Root of a Good Life

I just finished reading an article about some of the oldest living things on Earth. There is a tortoise that is 175 years old and a carp (fish) that is estimated to be 228 years old. But one of the oldest, discovered, living things on earth by far is a tree that is estimated as being nearly 5,000 years old. Methuselah, as it is called, appears more like a dried twisted stump and lives in an undisclosed location in the High Sierra region of California. It has been around longer than the Great Wall in China, the pyramids in Egypt, Stonehenge in the U.K., and Cher in Hollywood.

Undeterred by life passing around it, the tree has existed from day to day—one day at a time. For old Methuselah, the many days have passed like the sweep second-hand on a clock. It is awesome to think there are not many other living things on earth that have been around longer than the grand pillar. And so, it is no wonder that man is interested in what makes the old tree tick. We are curious to know what could be in the soil under its roots, or in the sap that runs through its gnarled branches, that allows its longevity. (The answer could be as simple as its lack of proximity to Man.)

Man is undeniably captivated by the concept of living forever. But I wonder what it is about long life that is so intriguing to Man. We all know that life isn’t always a bowl of cherries. I suppose it depends a lot on your stance in life that determines your motivation to live on perpetually.

Ask a poor man, not interested in longevity, and he might tell you that he cannot wait for the day when he will rest in the presence of God and finally put all hardship aside. Ask a rich man and he may give a completely different answer, hoping to extend his present circumstances for as long as possible.

Maybe our preoccupation with longevity has something to do with not knowing what is on the other side of life. If we were certain of what lay just on the other side of the end, and that it could be far better than anything we have currently going on, wouldn’t it be easier to think about leaving on the next train?

Does a “good life” then have something to do with having enough stuff or enjoying sustained security and comfort? Maybe. Believe it or not, I honestly think money can bring some contentment and peace, though they would be short-lived. You just have to make sure you’re going to have enough money to keep stoking the fires of discontent for as long as you intend on living.

The Pain Issue

Pain that is associated with loss of any kind should never be underestimated or trivialized. The sting of losing can begin to root itself deep within the complexity of the human soul and can easily become a more permanent, integrated fixture of a person’s spirit. That is why it is a good policy to steer clear of phrases like: ‘I know how you feel’, when an individual discloses an intimate and profound hurt. In truth, we can’t know fully what anyone’s pain feels like. Personal pain from tragedy is vast and complex. I cannot even begin to imagine the grief that results from the sudden loss of a loved one, for instance.

Much of the turmoil Job (from the OT) experienced after losing all he had was heaped upon him by “well-doers” attempting to fold his pain neatly into their boxes of cause and effect. But in the end what enables Job (or anyone else for that matter) to get through the immense and excruciating pain of loss is the belief that, though huge in scope, his pain could not out-size God.

A mistake I commonly make is viewing God as being smaller than my problems. Within this view it is much easier for me to accuse God of ignorance or ineffectiveness because I have corralled him in with me—both of us stuck inside the walls of unending trouble. The problem with this view is that my pain and fear will continue to grow ever larger unless the arms of God are able to embrace them and carry them with me.

Our pain has the potential to get so immense that we feel as if we will be crushed under its weight. Our tribulation can grow beyond our wisdom and ability to cope and to such proportions that it seems to encompass the whole earth! We begin to lose sight of where our pain starts and where it stops—it is everywhere, all of the time.

But what if God is not only bigger than tragedy and trouble but he is, in actuality, immeasurably larger than them? What if our insurmountable tribulation can be held within the cupped hands of God? What if, because of his infinite resources, God is able to help us see past the most tragic of circumstances? What wisdom could I mine from someone so large?

What if I can, for a moment, allow God to be a little bit bigger than the tribulation I endure? It is an arduous task to be sure, but I have found it is then that I slowly begin to breathe again. It is then that a little bit of new life breaks the crusty topsoil of disappointment, disillusionment, and discouragement.

Suddenly, my mind and my heart become reconnected once more. And I soon find I have a legitimate shot at upholding faith and hope for the light at the end of this very dark tunnel.

I'll Be Back!

I’m back. I haven’t written for quite a while. In fact, it’s been a few months since my last post. Time seems to skip along much faster now that I’m older and, all of a sudden, the summer season has passed and fall stands at the threshold.

I wish I could say that I’ve been absent from writing because I’ve been very busy with all the new and exciting things God is doing in my life or that it’s because I have been away on some lovely holiday at our summer home—but that wouldn’t be at all accurate. Truthfully, as far as my tent life is concerned, little has changed since the spring.

I want to confess that the primary reason for my writing absence is the lack of perceptible progress in my life. I desperately want to appear to have moved on from my dire circumstances. I don’t enjoy having to chew the cud of my stalled hopes and dreams, and frankly, few people want to keep hearing about my failures. I’d love to be able to report that major breakthroughs have occurred in my life and that my ship has finally come in. I want to say that I’ve endured hardship, turned the corner, and I’m now riding high on the wings of success.

But, while I don't want to appear like a chronic loser, I must admit that today I am relegated to bemoaning that God would fulfill what he has promised me in his Word—that he will never leave me nor forsake me and that he will always remain faithful to me. The problem is that God’s promise to be faithful is one that is not easily verified within the cage of dreadful circumstances. Have you ever wondered how to go about trying God’s presence and faithfulness within the midst of feeling you have been forsaken by him? Be honest.

In my opinion, God’s faithful presence in our life is not necessarily measured by the abundance of our peace, comfort, or success—though that would be cool. In other words, I don’t think that we should rely on outward, physical signs to be the most precise indication of God’s faithfulness and presence on a life.

People like to hear stories of great spiritual victories over meager circumstances. A puffed-up Christian testimony seems to condone our two-dollar theology that God is tirelessly concerned about our comfort in this life. But to view God as a “genie in a bottle”, ready to pour down blessings on us simply because we read our Bible or go to church, is a sad misconception and ultimately limits us to a ho-hum life. We simply cannot and should not use material gain as a measuring rod of God’s faithfulness.

So, how can we know God has NOT forsaken us when we feel forsaken?

Let me suggest a simple exercise anyone can conduct to gauge whether God is present in our lives—don't worry, it will not take much time or effort on our part. It is simply this: Give a cup of cold water to a thirsty soul. In fact, give away your OWN cup of cold water. You know, the one you so desperately need to make it yourself.

As we set out to touch the life of someone whose hope may wither without our help we begin to sense God’s presence well up within us. All of a sudden we seem to forget our own troubles as we experience the very heart of the Lord toward humanity. Suddenly we realize that God’s faithfulness to us isn’t measured so much by what he does FOR us, but more by what he does THROUGH us.

The Outsider

Not long ago, on a Sunday morning, I decided to visit a church. I sauntered into the bustling sanctuary a little late, found an empty seat near the rear escape hatch, and plopped down. The music part of the service was well underway as the enthusiastic worship musicians bobbed up and down and the singers swayed side-to-side gazing into the heavens. The musical gears turned like a well-oiled motor. The lighting was subdued but the glow from the stage lights was enough for me to observe some of the faces in the audience sitting around me. What they lacked in participation and engagement was made up by their look of approval and contentment with the proceedings.

“What in the world am I doing here?” I wondered to myself.

I realize I must have been wearing my feelings of discomfort on my face because as I would catch others looking back in my direction they seemed to be wondering the very same thing. Feeling a bit insecure, I thought at first that I must have chosen the wrong attire for the occasion. So I doubled-checked my outfit to make sure.

After a few minutes of this, I found myself thinking how odd it was that I would be perceived as an “outsider” in a house of worship. I’ve been a follower of Jesus for nearly forty years and spent the majority of those years leading worship, being a pastor, and doling out exactly what I was experiencing in that moment. And for a brief instant I felt bad about not wanting to join in and be a part of it again.

As the “meet-and-greet” time was announced everybody stood up, except for me, and a brave and determined looking man walked up to me with his hand stretched out. As I shook his hand he took on a strange “I’ve-got-me-a-live-one” attitude. As he probed me, he spoke unusually fast and purposeful—almost as if he wanted to get me to the sinner’s prayer within the allotted two-minute “meet-and-greet” time. It was a very surreal moment for someone like me who had spent so many years perpetuating the very same atmosphere at church. Now, as an outsider, all I wanted was to get out of there.

I stayed put only because I began to see that moment as a God ordained eye-opener. For a few minutes I was able to feel the alienation that being objectified brings. I began to encounter a bizarre but wonderful connection to the stranger who happens to walk into a place of worship looking for God, only to be considered an opportunity for exercising atrophied evangelism skills.

Within that strange encounter I suddenly felt pretty good about being outside of what was going on. The journey that God has had me on over the past several years has reconstructed the way I look at people both inside and outside the Church. The ongoing conversations I’ve been having with God concerning the way our goal-oriented Christianity is managed has resulted in my finding more comfort outside the walls of performance and ministry objectives.

What I look for now is to have fellowship with those who desire to be salt in the world churning around us—all the while unafraid to look like an outsider.

Pulverized

“Your hands shaped me and made me. 

Remember that you molded me like clay. 

Will you now turn me to dust again?” 

Job 10:8-9 

Job was an intriguing guy. The Bible says there was no one on earth like Job. He was blameless and upright—a man who feared God and shunned evil. He ranked up there with the likes of Billy Graham.

One day God agreed to let Satan torment Job. This is where the story gets a little sticky. I mean, what is up with God to allow Satan to harass a man who has done nothing but honor God with his whole life?

The incongruence of the story used to bug me to no end. Job’s life began spiraling downward as he lost more and more of himself to end-to-end tragedy. Soon there was nothing left to him but to sit on a dirt mound scraping the boils from his body with a shard of broken pottery. And this was a man who was considered among the best on earth.

At the height of the onslaught upon his life, fearing he would deny God, Job asked God to take his life:

“Oh, that I might have my request, that God would grant what I hope for, that God would be willing to crush me, to let loose his hand and cut off my life! Then I would still have this consolation—my joy in unrelenting pain—that I had not denied the words of the Holy One". 

Job 6:8-10 

When he realized that death would not be an option, Job began a discourse with friends and God. All he wanted was to get to the bottom of his ordeal—to get some wisdom and insight on his misfortune.

The story of Job has become one of my favorites over the last six years. In the past, I had always judged him wrongly. As a child, I was under the impression that his woes were the consequences of his pride. I could not have been more misled.

There is not a single instance in the account of his dilemma where Job acknowledges that he did anything wrong. Not because he was in denial, but because he was innocent. His proclamation of blamelessness did not slow his “friends” though, from attempting to attribute Job’s pain to his shortages. What are friends for if not to correct your bad behavior?

The story gets even more intriguing as Job deflects every accusation leveled at him by his friends. He is charged with wrongdoings up one side and down the other, but never gives an inch to his accusers.

Toward the end Job admits to only one thing—that he is merely dust in the larger scheme of things. And here in lies the message of Job—we are all merely “dust”. But wait! Being dust is a good thing.

A piece of pottery that has developed a crack is good for very little. In fact, it has become useless to perform the tasks for which it was created. An honest potter would never try to repair the cracks by filling them, for that would be a disreputable thing to do. Filling the cracks would not remedy the problem—only disguise it.

The only way the broken pottery has a chance to be used again in the future would be to pulverize the vessel. The process means that the clay pot would need to be turned back into a fine dust so that water could once again be added to create clay ready to be molded and shaped by the potter’s hands. But this humbling process is no walk in the park. It is intended to expose and do away with the "cracks" that make us insincere. And that can hurt like....

God Isn't Fair

These days I cannot have what I really want. My needs, though whittled down to some basic necessities of existence in L.A., are agonizingly out of my reach. This failure collides head-on with the human desire for comfort I have had my entire life. Never have my goals in life seemed so distant as they do now. They exist as vapor in an arid land.

The tension between what I want and what I cannot have has not eased in over 50 years. When I scrutinize the intense feelings associated with lack I see that they are the evidence of a long, hard search for me. Herein lies the conflict of my will versus God’s will—or what I believe is “fair” versus what God sees as “good”.

It's taken me a long time to realize that God does not work on the level of “fairness versus unfairness”. He is more concerned with what is “good”. The trouble I have with his approach is that “good” does not always appear “fair” from every angle, especially from my own. In fact, if we are honest, we have all had doubts concerning God's fairness at certain points.

A question of “fairness” can be immensely difficult to resolve since it is only by my willingness and acceptance that it can be laid to rest. My flesh, though, has a difficult time laying any perceived personal injustice to rest. Therefore, it is always better that I approach a difficult situation in life on the basis of whether or not it holds the potential for good. For instance, I realize now that much good can come from these years in the tent, even though their fairness will forever remain up for grabs.

Less Talk, More Show

Recently I had a conversation with a friend, the mother of a fourteen-year-old boy. She conveyed an observation her son had made on the way home from church regarding the Christianity of yesterday and of today.

“Your generation of Christian wants to be constantly told about Jesus…” He said, undoubtedly as a commentary on the events of that morning.

I agreed with his observation having lived through nearly four decades of sermonizing. But then the boy went on to say something deeply moving and profound…

“My generation wants to be SHOWN Jesus.” He said, revealing insight and wisdom beyond his years.

And therein lies the whole point of our existence as believers. It is our purpose to be “little Christ” to the people around us. As I read the accounts of Jesus’ life I notice that it is very different from most of the lives I observe—mine included. But it does not have to be that way. We are to be people who show the world Jesus in all that we do—finding joy in giving and reason in sacrifice. This should not be too difficult for us “older” believers to figure out since Jesus’ life has been so conveniently recorded for us in the Book.

It is imperative for our generation of believers to show the ones to come Jesus through how we live. If we don’t, we will lose them. I have come to the realization that the next generation is more dialed into OBSERVING us than it is LISTENING to us. And we could talk up one side and down the other without a single, solitary response. The power of the Gospel is evident in the lives of believers who simply live like Jesus.

Less talk, more show.

Jump Into the Sandbox

This spring I’ll have been a Christian for 39 years. Over the past four decades I have had the honor of being around a handful of people who seemed to have existed on another plane with God. Their lives indicated that they had a grasp of the heavenly presence on earth. They were the ones who seemed to know things about God that no one else did. They had a demeanor that hinted they understood the ways of God in a manner few others could. They were humble, wise, and full of indescribable peace—and if you weren’t looking for them, you wouldn’t notice them amongst the glitter and the rouge of the day.

Stop, look around you, they are still here—though they are very rare. They may be just an arms length away and you do not realize it. It’s worth the effort it takes to find them though, because it is highly likely that God is speaking to them about some very important things. And if he were, then we would do well to jump into their “sandbox” and see what God is shaping and creating around them.

You may already know a person the likes of which I speak—but if you don’t, you may want to start looking. They might appear like a busy mom, or a janitor, or an old person on the bus. They probably will not seem very important or influential—that is until you get to know them. When you do you might discover you share a common thread of thought, or a similar circumstance of life, or an insatiable need to have more of God. And suddenly you’ll realize you’ve become connected to the heart of the Lord.

God has created some people through time and fire—and because of that they seem to flow on the wind of the Holy Spirit. Through them are the great and small movements of God revealed. Through them God initiates change and brings into existence the new things that we all hope lay ahead.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

“Come down on a Sunday morning and perform a worship service for our overflow room and we’ll see if we are a good fit.” They suggested.

Some time ago I sent my resume to a church that was looking to bolster their stable of worship leaders for their overflow room. I was excited that they contacted me to “audition” for the job. Thinking that this opportunity could develop into a way out of my tent, I did my best to prepare the worship rightly.

As I drove up to the church on that Sunday I realized that this was a church that had several thousand regular parishioners. The “overflow room” was actually a full size gymnasium that converted to facilitate the several hundred people who couldn’t make it in the doors of the “real” sanctuary.

“You’ll have 14 minutes to fill for the worship portion of the service—no more, and no less.” They instructed.

I had to be certain to stop at just the right moment so that there would be no awkward silence and give enough time for the service director to access the live video feed from the main sanctuary where the pastor would deliver the actual service. As I led worship I was to keep one eye on the director for hand signals instructing me to either lengthen or shorten the song. And as I suspected the hand signals did come, they had extended the main service a few seconds and I was therefore expected to do the same for the overflow. That is until, by a sudden wave from the director’s hand, I was instructed to immediately cut the last verse of the last song. And so the worship of the beloved King of kings, and Lord of lords, ended up being all of 14 minutes 45 seconds—no more, and no less.

That morning the pastor of the mega-church, with great passion and compelling emotion, asked for the congregation to give money to fulfill an extension of “ministry to the community and the world”. The pastor asked the church to give 10 million dollars to the newly proposed plan—adding that God would surely bless and honor their sacrifices if they gave.

As it turned out, the proposed plan was not for a shelter for displaced people, or to kick-start a food bank for less privileged people in the community. The 10 million dollars were needed to build a multi-level parking structure on the church’s property so that parishioners could move comfortably from their cars to the sanctuary for Sunday services. I left that morning content to never hear back from my Christian brothers and sisters at the mega-church regarding the part-time “worship” leader position.

The outcome of those days of discovery was the beginning of a major change in what I believed about the purpose of the church in our western culture. I began to realize that certain “paradigm shifts” or “belief shifts” could only occur in our thinking through drastic changes in how we live.

As creatures of comfort we do not intentionally pursue drastic change in our lifestyle, especially if it leans toward a less comfortable option. We will fight tooth and nail, with the Bible tucked firmly under our arm, against the thought that God would actually bring us to our knees through trials and tribulation for his Kingdom’s sake. God, after all, is a God of success and prosperity, isn’t he?

I think we may have a long way to go yet—but it’s never too late to start.

No Guts, No Glory

I discovered a lot about myself, once I got past the fear of what I might find.

Most of us don’t like finding out we are not the person we thought we were. This hitch, more than anything else, is what holds me back from going down the roads toward enjoying greater spiritual freedom. I’m not comfortable thinking that I might be petty, jealous, selfish, or a dozen other things I reserve for others. I suspect though, that most of us are exactly what we are convinced we are not.

There’s an old adage that says: “You are what you eat”. I would like to add another version that might be even more accurate: “You are what you hesitate to reveal about yourself”.

The irony here is that none of us will ever find wholeness until we come face to face with ourselves and allow the truth to bring healing. Be forewarned though, it’ll take some guts.

Looking Ahead to Next Year

I suppose that I have done what many do around this time of the year—search the heavens for some insight to the past year and look ahead for a hint of the future. At this stage, it seems as if the years run headlong into the next without so much as a blip on the radar screen of God’s plan. But things are not as dire today as they seemed yesterday, and no one really knows what tomorrow brings.

Today I continue to be baffled over the purpose of these long, difficult years. Sometimes I think I have a slight inkling of God’s intentions, but that only serves to send me free falling back into attempting to construct my life on my own terms. I think he can do a far better job of designing a life than I ever could—so I will try to let him do that.

In all sincerity, what I truly desire from this tent life is that it produces something golden within me. I would rather pass away into eternity today than have these tent days account for nothing more than a few years of wasted time. My hope is that this struggle somehow culminates into something valuable in the kingdom of God for some greater good.

As much as I would love to be set free from the tent expeditiously this year, I do not seek to merely “get through” this period of my life and then casually move on to the “next thing”. These tent years have cost me far too much to turn the page on them nonchalantly. I must take with me something precious from these years of excavation.

So, when I finally get to look back at this time as a tent dweller I want to be able to say with strong conviction that this was the occasion—this was the moment in history that God took a hold of me, mercifully threw me into the fiery furnace of his faithful love, and changed me for all time. I want to be able to say that this was the time that created in me the things I needed for the rest of my task on earth and that, because of it, my life actually made a difference to another soul.

Happy New Year!