One thing that I struggle with a lot is how to deal with the guilt associated with sin. I believe that this is a major problem in my life, because I do not know how to reconcile the fact that I sin with the picture I have of myself. Is this pride? Vanity? Low self-esteem? Probably all three and a lot of other things too.
Something that I found interesting was Galatians 3. The whole chapter deals with the law, in the context of the Jews' legalism. This deals with one aspect of "sinning righteously" (that is, not allowing your sin to disable you and prevent you from continuing God's will): verse 10 says, "All who rely on observing the law are under a curse, for it is written: 'Cursed is everyone who does not continue to do everything written in the Book of the Law.'" Verse 5 says: "Does God give you his Spirit and work miracles among you because you observe the law, or because you believe what you heard?"
It's hard for me to realize that God wants me in spite of my faults. That just because I fail all too often does not mean that I have no worth to Him or, indeed, any of my friends. That God is with me not because I observe the law (I don't), but because I believe in Him.
I'm not sure exactly how to get myself to the point where I actually wholeheartedly believe this, to the point where I am able to live with myself after sinning. As it is, I find myself withdrawing and brooding, which I know from twenty years' worth of experience is extremely unhealthy and ultimately counterproductive.
Verse 3 is also interesting: "Are you so foolish? After beginning with the Spirit, are you now trying to attain your goal by human effort?" But what is the difference? What exactly does it mean for the Spirit to "fix" me? On the one hand, I know that I cannot conquer sin by myself. On the other, I know from experience that God does not expect me to sit back and let Him do all the work (that would be too easy). In the meantime, I just try to do what I think God wants me to, trying to ignore my shortcomings.
C.S. Lewis said that there is nothing more dangerous to the demons than someone who is in the midst of a down point in life--beaten, bruised, or perhaps just bored--who nevertheless keeps on plugging away because he believes in God and made a commitment that he simply won't break. Lewis implied that this occurred during times when God would take away most of His visible presence in that person's life, thereby enabling that person to grow more quickly and permanently. I find this both comforting and encouraging, because, in the midst of guilt about sin, if I keep doing God's will, I am still doing it right by Him.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Squishing Grapes
Biblegateway's verse of the day today is Matthew 20:17-19, where Jesus again predicts His death. I decided to read the rest of the chapter, and found that, just prior to His dire prediction, He told the parable of the vineyard.
In this parable, Jesus tells a story about a man who goes out in the morning to hire people to work his vineyard for the day. The thing is, he goes out multiple times throughout the day, hiring different groups of people--but all for the same wage. When he pays them, he pays them in reverse order, causing those who had been working longer to expect higher wages. They don't get them, though, and the owner of the vineyard has some pretty choice things to say to them when they complain.
I think the overall point of this is that we all get the same thing in the end: either angels soaring or devils drooling. It doesn't matter if you've been following Christ since you were five or if you were a deathbed confession; ultimately, the same gift is promised (crowns and other confusing symbols in Revelation aside).
Something that I found interesting was that the master of the vineyard tells the workers that he is not being unfair to them. He says that they all agreed to work for the same wage, so why are they complaining? I do not find it irrelevant that in the very same chapter the Zebedee brothers approach Jesus with their mother and ask for positions at His left and right hands.
I don't know if we will all be treated entirely equally in heaven. Revelation seems to imply that some will be rewarded more than others, perhaps on the basis of works (I think Jesus may have also told some parables to that effect as well). But what I do know is that we should be satisfied with what we have. We work towards a vague notion of implied bliss, not because we deserve it, but because God gives it to us. We have eternal life at our fingertips; now, what the Dickens are we doing asking, "Please sir, I want some more?" If God wants to play favorites with the exact degree of giftedness, I fail to see how that is any of our concern. God knows I'm not going to be the one seated at Jesus' right (does such a position even exist? Or was Jesus just messing with them? I would love for them to get to heaven and for Jesus to say, "Hi guys! April Fool's!")
Another thing I found somewhat interesting is that the master says, "Don't I have the right to do what I want with my own money?" This is more potent when you consider that God is actually saying it. It makes me think back to God's response to Job, when Job finally got fed up with all of the horrible things happening to him--it's essentially the same thing. You, the world, and everything in it are Mine, all Mine, whether I am acknowledged or not, and I can do whatever I want with it. Trust me to do what's in your best interest. I wonder if God asks this question every day in answer to so many questions that we have.
The final thing the master asks is, "...are you envious because I am generous?" This is a bit puzzling, because I see two distinct possible meanings for it.
First, the obvious meaning and most direct meaning is that we are envious of what God gives to the people around us. So-and-so is smarter, or prettier, or more athletic, or whatever than I am, and it's not fair that God gave that talent(s) to him and not to me. I think this can sometimes be a real problem in my own life, since I often feel the need to compare myself to others and realize that they are better than I am at something. Why? I dunno.
But the way the sentence is phrased confuses me somewhat. Other translations talk about evil eyes caused by the goodness of the master, which only clouds the issue even more (the best I can figure is that it is some sort of idiom for what the NIV translates it to--some of the translations even have mixtures of the two).
What's interesting to me about this is that, if you take the sentence literally, their envy is a direct result of the master's generosity. I think this might show a consequence of their sin.
What's happening here is that the master is doing something good: he's being generous, but his good deed is being twisted and is indirectly causing these other people to sin. I wonder if this is a less obvious meaning behind the parable: when we envy, we take something that God has given someone else and turn it into something evil for our own descent into sin. Not that the gift itself becomes evil, but for us it does, because it encourages our envy.
If we take this to its logical conclusion, the gift itself becomes a point of contention, perhaps even division. Does the gift become evil? Not in itself, but suddenly it becomes the catalyst of a host of other sins like pride or lust. Marriages have fallen apart over things like this--people leave churches all the time over contrived reasons that have envy at their root.
I wonder if this is put here as a warning to us.
Ramble ramble ramble...
In this parable, Jesus tells a story about a man who goes out in the morning to hire people to work his vineyard for the day. The thing is, he goes out multiple times throughout the day, hiring different groups of people--but all for the same wage. When he pays them, he pays them in reverse order, causing those who had been working longer to expect higher wages. They don't get them, though, and the owner of the vineyard has some pretty choice things to say to them when they complain.
I think the overall point of this is that we all get the same thing in the end: either angels soaring or devils drooling. It doesn't matter if you've been following Christ since you were five or if you were a deathbed confession; ultimately, the same gift is promised (crowns and other confusing symbols in Revelation aside).
Something that I found interesting was that the master of the vineyard tells the workers that he is not being unfair to them. He says that they all agreed to work for the same wage, so why are they complaining? I do not find it irrelevant that in the very same chapter the Zebedee brothers approach Jesus with their mother and ask for positions at His left and right hands.
I don't know if we will all be treated entirely equally in heaven. Revelation seems to imply that some will be rewarded more than others, perhaps on the basis of works (I think Jesus may have also told some parables to that effect as well). But what I do know is that we should be satisfied with what we have. We work towards a vague notion of implied bliss, not because we deserve it, but because God gives it to us. We have eternal life at our fingertips; now, what the Dickens are we doing asking, "Please sir, I want some more?" If God wants to play favorites with the exact degree of giftedness, I fail to see how that is any of our concern. God knows I'm not going to be the one seated at Jesus' right (does such a position even exist? Or was Jesus just messing with them? I would love for them to get to heaven and for Jesus to say, "Hi guys! April Fool's!")
Another thing I found somewhat interesting is that the master says, "Don't I have the right to do what I want with my own money?" This is more potent when you consider that God is actually saying it. It makes me think back to God's response to Job, when Job finally got fed up with all of the horrible things happening to him--it's essentially the same thing. You, the world, and everything in it are Mine, all Mine, whether I am acknowledged or not, and I can do whatever I want with it. Trust me to do what's in your best interest. I wonder if God asks this question every day in answer to so many questions that we have.
The final thing the master asks is, "...are you envious because I am generous?" This is a bit puzzling, because I see two distinct possible meanings for it.
First, the obvious meaning and most direct meaning is that we are envious of what God gives to the people around us. So-and-so is smarter, or prettier, or more athletic, or whatever than I am, and it's not fair that God gave that talent(s) to him and not to me. I think this can sometimes be a real problem in my own life, since I often feel the need to compare myself to others and realize that they are better than I am at something. Why? I dunno.
But the way the sentence is phrased confuses me somewhat. Other translations talk about evil eyes caused by the goodness of the master, which only clouds the issue even more (the best I can figure is that it is some sort of idiom for what the NIV translates it to--some of the translations even have mixtures of the two).
What's interesting to me about this is that, if you take the sentence literally, their envy is a direct result of the master's generosity. I think this might show a consequence of their sin.
What's happening here is that the master is doing something good: he's being generous, but his good deed is being twisted and is indirectly causing these other people to sin. I wonder if this is a less obvious meaning behind the parable: when we envy, we take something that God has given someone else and turn it into something evil for our own descent into sin. Not that the gift itself becomes evil, but for us it does, because it encourages our envy.
If we take this to its logical conclusion, the gift itself becomes a point of contention, perhaps even division. Does the gift become evil? Not in itself, but suddenly it becomes the catalyst of a host of other sins like pride or lust. Marriages have fallen apart over things like this--people leave churches all the time over contrived reasons that have envy at their root.
I wonder if this is put here as a warning to us.
Ramble ramble ramble...
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Oh, and My Outreach Project
So, I realize I'm terribly behind on my blog, and I have no real excuses. Just laziness, or a feeling that I don't really anything to contribute, or some such idiocy.
Anyway, in case anyone is still interested my outreach project is a team effort with Charlie to get people in our respective cores to host dinners in their apartments. We will target someone once every other week, and see if that person is willing to play host. Charlie and I are planning to provide most of the food, although we greatly appreciate any assistance the core members are willing to provide.
The overall purpose of all of this is to try to get our core members to meet new people outside of the ministry, and to get them used to being hospitable. We hope to strengthen relationships they already have, promote unity in their apartments, and build new relationships with other people. We are planning to invite mainly people who are not from FOCUS to these events.
Right-o.
Anyway, in case anyone is still interested my outreach project is a team effort with Charlie to get people in our respective cores to host dinners in their apartments. We will target someone once every other week, and see if that person is willing to play host. Charlie and I are planning to provide most of the food, although we greatly appreciate any assistance the core members are willing to provide.
The overall purpose of all of this is to try to get our core members to meet new people outside of the ministry, and to get them used to being hospitable. We hope to strengthen relationships they already have, promote unity in their apartments, and build new relationships with other people. We are planning to invite mainly people who are not from FOCUS to these events.
Right-o.
What Was Job's Job?
I recently finished reading through most of the book of Job. I must say that Job completely confounds my entire conception of God, and makes me think through the rest of the Old Testament in an entirely new light.
In the beginning of the book, God brags about his servant Job to a mysterious figure called "the Satan" (according to Wikipedia). Whether this figure is Lucifer, or some sort of divine prosecutor is apparently in question. Regardless, the horrific result of the conversation is clear: Satan accuses Job of worshipping God out of selfishness (or, perhaps, out of a sort of twisted gratitude), and God gives Satan free reign over all of Job's possessions, and later over Job's body as well (with the caveat that Satan may not kill Job). The rest of the book describes an incredibly destructive and painful torment, with Job understandably confused and bitter.
The most interesting part of the book for me, however, occurs at the end, when God "answers" Job's confused questioning. Rather than offering any explanation, God simply sidesteps Job's questions and seems to accuse Job of a lack of faith. God's argument is essentially that He is all-powerful and Job should not question God's right to do anything He wants to. This is hardly the conception of divine justice I had when I came into the book.
Indeed, one could be forgiven for concluding that, far from possessing any sort of justice in the human sense of the term, God simply does what He pleases. Why does He do what He does? His answer seems to me like a cop-out--"I'm bigger than you, you wouldn't understand." While I certainly realize that I can never understand God, the complete lack of an explanation of any sort, no matter how nebulous, quite frankly leaves me feeling beyond perplexed.
In search of answers I look first to the rest of the Old Testament. There I find only more questions. God's mercy is tempered by an iron fist, which we see more often than not. I see Joshua ordered by the supposedly merciful God to slaughter men, women, and children. I see a man concealing idols, and his entire household swallowed up, with no mention of how involved they were. "The sins of the father are visited upon the third and fourth generation."
Yet, I also find God bearing with sinful Abram, after not once but twice he lies about his wife in a heavy-handed attempt to save his own skin. I find a God Who suffers through Josephs's arrogance and teaches him how to behave--through slavery and torment. I see God blessing Israel over and over--while they are doing what He tells them to.
So, the question remains: just who the hell is this crazy, schizophrenic God that I so readily give my allegiance to?
This duality in God's nature becomes even more confusing when I fast forward to Jesus, and see His "good" side so much more clearly. In fact, Jesus is so much closer in so many ways to my prior conception of God, that He seems to be a much different person from the God who essentially destroyed Job's life. He's severely harsh on religious oppressors, and blindingly merciful to the sinful people who flock about Him. He has a no-nonsense attitude towards huge crowds that are just looking for a good time. I see very clearly a loving, powerful strength.
But most confusing of all, I follow Jesus as He heals people. In stark contrast to His dealings with Job, it seems that God cares about human life on Earth, after all.
Philip Yancey postulates that the miracles Jesus performed were a sort of foretaste of what was to come. They were done to show what Jesus' kingdom was all about--creation rather than destruction, mercy overcoming vengeance. Jesus did not really ease the overall level of suffering on Earth--even His death and resurrection were aimed at eternal rather than temporal bliss.
This begs the disquieting question, which is the obvious and logical question that the book of Job poses: does God really give one bucket of swill what my life is like on Earth? Complicated questions of free will aside, is He so concerned with my soul that He is willing to completely disregard my fleshly body?
Don't misunderstand me. I am mostly content with my life--simply living in the United States means that I have very little cause to complain. My question is not necessarily one of complaint, but a deeper question of God's character, as well as a deeper look into this grand failed experiment we call Life.
Looking back over what I know of God, I would say that the answer has to be a qualified no. I think that what may at first glance appear to be a cop-out at the conclusion of Job, in reality is the key to the question at hand. God has much bigger and more important things to worry about than caring for my one short, tiny life amongst the swarming billions who live on this planet. In fact, God not only has to worry about my life, but the lives of everyone who lived before me, and everyone who will live after me. It's not a matter of God being spread too thin; it's a matter of perspective.
I wonder if this is why Job was comforted by God's words; he almost stopped caring about his life and just let God do what He will, because there was nothing Job could do about it. God does what He wants and offers no explanation. We can try to rationalize, to make sense of it all, and quite possibly go mad doing so, but the end result is that God does what God does. The only choice we really have is whether we're with Him or against Him.
It's enough to make you think twice about praying for an "A" on an exam that you didn't study for.
Kudos to anyone who reads all of this. :) I realize I'm a pretty verbose writer.
In the beginning of the book, God brags about his servant Job to a mysterious figure called "the Satan" (according to Wikipedia). Whether this figure is Lucifer, or some sort of divine prosecutor is apparently in question. Regardless, the horrific result of the conversation is clear: Satan accuses Job of worshipping God out of selfishness (or, perhaps, out of a sort of twisted gratitude), and God gives Satan free reign over all of Job's possessions, and later over Job's body as well (with the caveat that Satan may not kill Job). The rest of the book describes an incredibly destructive and painful torment, with Job understandably confused and bitter.
The most interesting part of the book for me, however, occurs at the end, when God "answers" Job's confused questioning. Rather than offering any explanation, God simply sidesteps Job's questions and seems to accuse Job of a lack of faith. God's argument is essentially that He is all-powerful and Job should not question God's right to do anything He wants to. This is hardly the conception of divine justice I had when I came into the book.
Indeed, one could be forgiven for concluding that, far from possessing any sort of justice in the human sense of the term, God simply does what He pleases. Why does He do what He does? His answer seems to me like a cop-out--"I'm bigger than you, you wouldn't understand." While I certainly realize that I can never understand God, the complete lack of an explanation of any sort, no matter how nebulous, quite frankly leaves me feeling beyond perplexed.
In search of answers I look first to the rest of the Old Testament. There I find only more questions. God's mercy is tempered by an iron fist, which we see more often than not. I see Joshua ordered by the supposedly merciful God to slaughter men, women, and children. I see a man concealing idols, and his entire household swallowed up, with no mention of how involved they were. "The sins of the father are visited upon the third and fourth generation."
Yet, I also find God bearing with sinful Abram, after not once but twice he lies about his wife in a heavy-handed attempt to save his own skin. I find a God Who suffers through Josephs's arrogance and teaches him how to behave--through slavery and torment. I see God blessing Israel over and over--while they are doing what He tells them to.
So, the question remains: just who the hell is this crazy, schizophrenic God that I so readily give my allegiance to?
This duality in God's nature becomes even more confusing when I fast forward to Jesus, and see His "good" side so much more clearly. In fact, Jesus is so much closer in so many ways to my prior conception of God, that He seems to be a much different person from the God who essentially destroyed Job's life. He's severely harsh on religious oppressors, and blindingly merciful to the sinful people who flock about Him. He has a no-nonsense attitude towards huge crowds that are just looking for a good time. I see very clearly a loving, powerful strength.
But most confusing of all, I follow Jesus as He heals people. In stark contrast to His dealings with Job, it seems that God cares about human life on Earth, after all.
Philip Yancey postulates that the miracles Jesus performed were a sort of foretaste of what was to come. They were done to show what Jesus' kingdom was all about--creation rather than destruction, mercy overcoming vengeance. Jesus did not really ease the overall level of suffering on Earth--even His death and resurrection were aimed at eternal rather than temporal bliss.
This begs the disquieting question, which is the obvious and logical question that the book of Job poses: does God really give one bucket of swill what my life is like on Earth? Complicated questions of free will aside, is He so concerned with my soul that He is willing to completely disregard my fleshly body?
Don't misunderstand me. I am mostly content with my life--simply living in the United States means that I have very little cause to complain. My question is not necessarily one of complaint, but a deeper question of God's character, as well as a deeper look into this grand failed experiment we call Life.
Looking back over what I know of God, I would say that the answer has to be a qualified no. I think that what may at first glance appear to be a cop-out at the conclusion of Job, in reality is the key to the question at hand. God has much bigger and more important things to worry about than caring for my one short, tiny life amongst the swarming billions who live on this planet. In fact, God not only has to worry about my life, but the lives of everyone who lived before me, and everyone who will live after me. It's not a matter of God being spread too thin; it's a matter of perspective.
I wonder if this is why Job was comforted by God's words; he almost stopped caring about his life and just let God do what He will, because there was nothing Job could do about it. God does what He wants and offers no explanation. We can try to rationalize, to make sense of it all, and quite possibly go mad doing so, but the end result is that God does what God does. The only choice we really have is whether we're with Him or against Him.
It's enough to make you think twice about praying for an "A" on an exam that you didn't study for.
Kudos to anyone who reads all of this. :) I realize I'm a pretty verbose writer.
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