Archives For God’s pursuit of our heart

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A year or so ago, a Christian friend described how he was beginning to bring the gospel his softball team. He had joined the local league that spring—partly for the fun of the game and partly to get outside his Christian bubble and to meet non-believers.

However, he felt uncomfortable with his teammates’ cussing during the game. He asked them if they would stop, at least while he was with them.

They agreed and stopped (for the most part). He deemed this “cleaner language” an evangelistic victory. It hinted that his teammates might be choosing the right path.

He felt that somehow the gospel had been advanced. Next he planned to ask them to stop drinking.

Something about my friend’s story felt discordant. I didn’t sense anyone closer to God.

Somehow, I felt the gospel had been perverted. Continue Reading…

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I hate leaving for trips, but I also—sometimes—hate returning. There is so much to do. There are all the things I didn’t do while away, and all the things I normally do when I’m home, and all the things my trip generates.

I returned home late last Friday night from a week long set of planning meetings. Sure enough, my “normal” things for last week didn’t get done by themselves; the planning meetings generated a huge list of terrific things to do; and I had my normal new week’s list just waiting for action.

I felt overwhelmed and weighed down, besieged by an army of action items. As I charged through my to-do list, the battle went downhill. Technology misfired, people were late, misunderstandings abounded, and phone interruptions ruled.

Instead of bleeding with a sword through my heart, I was dying of a thousand paper cuts; instead of facing the hulking, flying Nazgûl, I was surrounded by ten thousand blood-sucking mosquitoes. Continue Reading…

Today didn’t go as planned. Not even close.

Our dog Puzzle didn’t eat a bite on Sunday. I woke up today (Monday) to find two large pools of diarrhea in the family room and a cowering dog in the kitchen. I called the vet. They had an opening in one hour. For the next forty-five minutes I scrubbed and scoured the cesspools in our carpet.

When I coaxed Puzzle to the car, I discovered a flat tire. I pumped it up and sped to the vet. I had missed the “window” and sat for an hour amidst yapping dogs and a shivering Puzzle. (He’s fine; he just ate something bad.)

I dropped Puzzle off at home, and I limped to the tire store. They said it would take twenty minutes. An hour and twenty minutes later they said a nail and punctured the sidewall and I needed a new tire. But it wasn’t in stock. I’d have to come back.

I rushed to Panera’s for a lunch appointment, but my friend didn’t show up. He texted, saying that he had a toothache and was dashing to the dentist for an emergency visit.

I hurried home only to discover that my website was down. Apparently there had been a “massive DDoS attack on GoDaddy.com” (whatever that means) which affected thousands of sites. Including mine.

While talking with technical support, my wife came home with a kidney stone episode, so I ended the call and ran out to buy her some painkillers.

By mid afternoon my friend had a pain in the mouth, my wife had a pain in the side, and my day had been a pain in the ____ (fill in the blank). Continue Reading…

When I was nine or ten years of age, I hit my sister. (I’m sure she deserved it).

My parents were not happy. They sat me on the sofa. They told me that my behavior was unacceptable. They asked me if I wanted to be the kind of person who retaliated with violence.

And then they orchestrated unpleasant consequences.

I don’t remember the actual consequences of that day, but whatever they were, they worked. I never again retaliated with violence.

But look at the motivations for my morality. My parents appealed to my identity (I didn’t want to be THAT kind of person), and they appealed to my comfort (I didn’t want to experience THOSE kinds of consequences).

In other words, my parents taught me morality by appealing to my self-centeredness. Continue Reading…

Several years ago I met with a woman distraught by her son’s rejection of Christianity.

She said, “I did everything I could to raise him right. I taught him to be like the ‘heroes of faith,’ with the faithfulness of Abraham, the goodness of Joseph, the pure heart of David, and the obedience of Esther.”

She wondered why he rejected Christianity.

I wondered why it took him so long. Continue Reading…

I know a man, a really good man, whose life is filled with drudgery. He dutifully cares for his wife and family; he dutifully pours out his life in service; and he dutifully attends to work. He resists opposing desires—like wanting to dodge a service he hates, or aching to “take it easy”—with willpower.

His life, he feels, is dull and empty. His life, he says, is “dreariness and doldrums; I go through the motions without a purpose.” Drudgery has been his life for years. He is joyless.

The driving force of his life—that which gets him out of bed each morning—is willpower, his determination to battle contrary desires. His joyless obligations rule his heart.

I feel sorry for him and his life of dreariness and drudgery. And, yes, he is a Christian. His joyless life unfortunately reflects the lives of many believers. It’s why many nonbelievers don’t like Christianity. They don’t want our dull life. They don’t want to become like us.

Yikes! The gospel is meant to be a transforming power of joy. What has happened to us? Continue Reading…

Cynthia Heimel lived in New York in the 1970s and she knew actors and artists before their fame—while they were still bussing tables and driving cabs—but she also knew them after their fame. She wrote this:

I pity celebrities. No I really do. Sylvester Stallone, Bruce Willis, and Barbara Streisand were once perfectly pleasant human beings. But now their wrath is awful. I think when God wants to play a really rotten practical joke on you, he grants you your deepest wish and giggles merrily when you realize you want to kill yourself.

You see, Sly, Bruce and Barbara wanted fame. They worked, they pushed, and the morning after each of them became famous, they wanted to take an overdose. Because that giant thing they were striving for, that something that was going to make everything okay, that was going to make their lives bearable, that was going to provide them with personal fulfillment and happiness, had happened. And they were still them. The disillusionment turned them howling and insufferable. (Cynthia Heimel, The Village Voice, January 2, 1990)

 “The disillusionment turned them howling and insufferable.” With these words, Heimel drives a dagger into the center of the human heart. We all desperately desire things, and yet their fulfillment fails to fully satisfy.

The western world—and especially the USA—is experiencing an explosion of devastating addictions. We witness the destruction of families, lives, and careers—all on account of these compulsive and seemingly unconquerable obsessions.

But hidden addictions—of equal ruining intensity—conceal deep dangers that these chemical dependencies point to. Continue Reading…

Avoiding Avoidance

March 20, 2012 — 7 Comments

Deathbed advice offers impact which no other advice provides.

My father died of cancer sixteen years ago. A few weeks before his death, knowing he would die soon, my father offered me advice.

As a long term pastor, my father counseled hundreds of men and women. He said that many of them lived their lives being controlled by their parents. They spent their lives avoiding their parents’ bad behavior.

My father was not an angel; he had an anger problem. He lost his temper over little events, like when he lost his keys (which he seemed to lose all the time!). He was concerned that his kids might waste their lives trying to avoid his anger issue. He advised me instead to spend my energy imitating the good things I saw in my parents and teachers and friends.

Then he said this: “If you spend your life trying not to be somebody you will spend your life not being somebody.”

We will never become ourselves by running from; we will only become our true selves by running to. If we turn our inner life into a vacuum—always removing things—our inner life will never become a thing of substance. It will always be empty. Continue Reading…

In 1989 the company I worked for was dying; it was losing money like the prodigal son, it had a two-year sales drought, and our owner—though previously successful—was out of cash. The company asked me to demonstrate our software to one of our prospective clients. Actually, our only prospective client. If we didn’t land this deal, we were out of business and I was out of a job.

The night before the demo the client’s consultant Jerry invited me to dinner. He said our competitors had bungled their demos by wasting half of their time showing “cool” features that the client didn’t need. And when the client said they weren’t interested in such functionality, our competitors ignored their requests, and continued showing off the coolness of this or that particular feature.

Jerry went on to say that our competitors had failed because they wouldn’t yield control of the conversation to the client. The competitors thought they knew what was needed, while in fact only the client knew what was needed. Jerry suggested I begin my demo by asking the client to describe their needs. And then he suggested that I use the rest of the presentation to show solutions to their needs. I did. They liked it. We got the deal. And I kept my cubicle.

What does demoing software and controlling conversations have to do with hearing God?

Everything. Continue Reading…

The Power of Hope

December 14, 2011 — 2 Comments

Imagine two men who are given year long jobs in a sweat shop. Each man works the night shift in a hot and humid factory. Their bosses are overbearing and perhaps even brutal; the tasks are tedious and tiring; and the hours long and dreary.

The first man is told he will receive twenty-five thousand dollars at the end of the year. The second man is told he will receive twenty-five million dollars at the end of the year.

How will they react to the harsh conditions? The first man will hate every moment and probably give up after a month. The second man will whistle while he works.*

What is the difference? The circumstances are identical (hot, humid, long hours with overbearing bosses) and yet the actual experiences of those circumstances are wildly different.

The essence of Hope is simple. Our believed in future determines our experience of today. When we know—we believe in our hearts—that our future is something glorious, then our experience of today’s problems can be swallowed up in a joy.

What do we need most today, now, at this very minute and moment? We think we need relief from a current stress (financial, emotional, directional, or relational). But that is not our deepest need. Our deepest need is a deep belief of the heart. We need hope.

But, how can we endure difficulties? In Romans, Paul says,

Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us… Romans 5: 3-5

Notice the end result; suffering produces Hope. And notice that hope is not wishful thinking; instead, “Hope does not disappoint us.” God is producing in us a firm certainty of His future for us. In fact, he is using the very circumstances which we hate to create in us something that we’ll love. He is creating Hope. And we need this far more than we need any fix for any set of bad circumstances.

God wants us to possess a strength of character—Hope—that empowers us in the middle of the harshest of circumstances. Like the factory worker who knows he’ll receive twenty-five million at the end of the year, we’ll be able to whistle while we work. Only with a bigger promise, a firmer certainty, and a greater future.

Let’s say we want strengthen our muscles. So we pick up some dumbbells and begin curling iron. After five minutes our biceps are screaming and our body says to us, “I’m not getting stronger, I’m getting weaker!” Our trials can feel like that, but God is using them to build strength.

I don’t mean to be glib about our difficulties. Sometimes they are merely passing insensitive comments, and other times they are the loss of a loved one. My sister Becky lost her ten year old son to a car accident. She wrote,

To see my lovely, living and breathing child suddenly turned into nothing but an empty, lifeless shell seemed to me to be an unspeakable perversion.  It left a huge gaping hole in my heart and life.  I saw death as a monstrosity, repulsive, a thief who had the power to rob me of life and joy.

Later she wrote,

But because of what Jesus has done for us by dying for our sins and being raised from the dead, death can ultimately no longer rob us of anything. My son Robby is right now in the presence of God.

The Bible teaches us that when we die, we go immediately into the presence of Christ.  “Today you will be with me in paradise,” Jesus said to the thief on the cross.  St. Paul said, “For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.”  Death can only be gain if we are alive in the presence of God.  Rev. 14:13 says:  “Then I heard a voice from heaven say, ‘Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.’”

The biblical attitude towards death can be summed up in one great statement.  It is a blessing.  Jesus Christ has changed the meaning of death for the Christian.

Death is no longer our executioner, but has become our gardener.

What is the controlling reality of our hearts? Is it pejorative comments made by insensitive people? Is it hopeless lies which come from tragedies? Or is it the deep reality of what Christ promises us?

In the Lord of the Rings, Battle of Pelennor Fields, the battle has been fierce and bloody, the Lord of the Nazgûl is dead but friendly casualties also lie strewn about like refuse, the enemy’s forces seem unlimited, and all hope is lost. Into this darkness rides Aragorn on a fleet of ships. Then Éomer sees Aragon, “and wonder took him, and a great joy … and he sang.” That is Hope for us. We see the future, arriving.

One of my favorite hymns is For All The Saints, and my favorite verse in that hymn is this:

And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long, Steals on the ear the distant triumph song, And hearts are brave, again, and arms are strong. Alleluia, Alleluia!

This verse summarize the ending of the Battle of Pelennor Fields (in far fewer words!), and it perfectly illustrates how Hope and the Holy Spirit work in our hearts. When our strife is fierce and the warfare is long, the Holy Spirit opens our ears and our eyes to the distant triumph to come. That knowledge of the future—our true Hope—pours bravery back into our hearts and strength back into our arms.

We can face the day and all that it shall throw at us. We already know the outcome—eternal and glorious life—and we hear the victory song.

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*I first heard this harsh-factory metaphor in a sermon series by Tim Keller, Living in Hope. I highly recommend the series.