Leaping in the dark

Are you afraid of letting God get a grip on you? Do you stand at a distance, too scared to let him get close? Do you fear what he might do with you, or ask you to do, if you handed over your life to him?

In one sense, we should all be afraid of God. We should never underestimate his power and awesomeness. It is a dreadful thing to fall, unprepared, into the hands of the living God.

But it's not this reverent fear which holds many of us back from putting ourselves fully in God's hands. Our fear comes from other sources.

Some fear losing control. They've had unpleasant experiences of being controlled and manipulated by others. Perhaps they've been through a time where life was chaotically out of control and they've vowed (often subconsciously) never to let that happen to them again. They want to believe God can be trusted, but there's a dreadful emotional barrier in the way.

Some would like to be closer to God, but they're already committed to serving someone or something else - their career, their reputation, their parents or spouse, an ideology, an organization or a secret society. They're unwilling to depose their idol, and God allows no rivals.

Half-heartedness is sometimes a mask for laziness. While I continue to serve God on my terms, I can set limits to how much time and effort I give him. Being a paid servant is one thing, becoming a slave of Christ is quite another. But fear can also cause half-heartedness - what if God asked me to do more than I could cope with? What if I never achieve the things I want to achieve because I'm too busy doing God's work?

Satan uses our fears to keep us at a distance from God. He tells us God doesn't have our best interest at heart. He keeps the word "fanatic" fresh in our minds. He holds us over a dark abyss and whispers "This is faith. Do you really want to jump?"

Jesus calls to us, "Follow me". But where? What will happen along the way? Putting all our trust in him can seem like a leap in the dark, until we understand how he proved his trustworthiness on the cross. If you are afraid to trust your life to God, or know that he's asking you to trust him more, talk to another Christian about it and ask them to pray with you. The only truly safe place in the universe is in God's hands.

Photo by Mitchell Hartley on Unsplash

Faith in Crisis - free ebook to download

I've recently put together some of the articles from this blog and my archives that seem relevant to the present times. They cover topics such as faith, trust, doubt, disasters and questions about God's goodness.

The result is 'Faith in Crisis', a small eBook in PDF format that's free to download from my website. I hope and pray that it will be an encouragement to you.




UPDATE

I've now added a second eBook, Hope in Sorrow, which is made up of longer articles on grief, depression, stress and death. You can download it free from my website.

Help me, Lord

Where do you go when life hurts? Who do you turn to when your health falters, when relationships sour, when things happen which leave you feeling sad, angry, weary or frightened? As Christians we know the answer: "Take it to the Lord in prayer."

Unfortunately, despite the old song, many of us have learned that it's selfish to pray for ourselves. Ignoring the ache in our hearts, we methodically work through praise, thanksgiving and praying for others before we bring our own problems to God. It's as though, somehow, we must earn the right to talk to him about ourselves.

Imagine a child coming to her father and saying "Dad, you're the greatest. I'm really grateful for all the things you've given me. Please look after my sister Mary, who has a sore thumb. And Dad, I've broken my wrist and it hurts."

I'm not suggesting that we shouldn't regularly praise and thank God. Nor should we be selfish and demanding children who ignore the needs of others. Sometimes praying for others can lift us out of a mood of self-pity. 

But it's easy to fall into the subtle temptation to use praise, thanksgiving and intercession for others as a means of twisting God's arm. We may seem to be honouring God. Yet what we're really doing is showing a lack of trust in him and probably feeding our own pride as well. ("See how unselfish I am, praying for Mary before I pray for myself".)

The psalmists often poured out their hearts to God, before reminding themselves of his goodness to them in the past. Praise frequently followed their laments, but not always. Their prayers sometimes seem quite abrupt and self-focused. Yet it would be difficult to accuse the psalmists of not trusting God or not taking him seriously.

Jesus taught his disciples to begin their prayers with worship (Father, hallowed be your name) and a commitment to God's kingdom (Your will be done) before asking him to meet their own needs (Give us this day). This is how we should pray most of the time. 

Yet it's not the way that Jesus prayed in Gethsemane or on the cross. Nor did he ever turn anyone away because they failed to worship and thank him before they asked for healing. The very fact that they came to him for healing showed that they recognised who he was and put their trust in him. We can do the same.

Image by Steve Bidmead from Pixabay

Is God really good?

Sometimes I wonder if God really is good. When I watch the news, or read a newspaper, I wonder how we can keep saying "God is in control". When I see the terrible pain and suffering that people inflict on each other, not just in the world, but even in the church, I sometimes begin to doubt that God is even real. Where is he? What is he doing? Are we just wasting our time in church on Sunday?

What keeps me from tossing my Bible in the bin is reflecting on the life of Jesus. Jesus lived in a time when the blind and the lame and the leprous had no hospitals, no Medicare, no social services. He saw children tormented by uncontrolled epilepsy and dying of infections.

He lived in a country occupied by soldiers who didn't look to see if the media were watching before they beat people up. As he wandered about the countryside, he probably saw the mangled bodies of those who had been crucified. He heard his disciples arguing, vying with each other for status, making promises he knew they couldn't keep. He knew far better than I do what the real world is like.

And yet he kept talking as if God were in control. He spoke of God as our Father, who loves us and cares for us.

Perhaps Jesus was just crazy and deluded, ignoring what was in front of him and living in a spiritual dream world. If that's the case, we might as well go home. But if he was sane, then it's tremendously reassuring to know that he lived in the real world. He knew what it's like, and yet he could still trust his Father. He could still believe that his life and death had purpose and meaning. He could still work with his disciples, despite their failings. He didn't look around him and throw up his hands in despair.

Jesus could have used his divine powers to miraculously change the world. He was certainly tempted by that possibility. So why did he heal only a few? Why did he feed just a few thousand and not all the world's hungry? Why didn't he end the brutal political system of the time?

Who knows? The fact that he could have done these miracles, but didn't, suggests that what he did was more important than all of these potential miracles. It helps to bring things back into their eternal perspective.

Photo by British Library on Unsplash

What does it mean to trust God?

Trust is important in any relationship. But there are two levels of trust. The first involves our expectation that the other person will do us good rather than harm and will carry out what they say they will do. Over time we learn whether or not to believe the things they promise.

The second, deeper, level of trust involves our sense of safety when we are with them, and our willingness to reveal ourselves to them. We all long to be known deeply by someone. Yet life teaches us to be wary of exposing our real selves to anyone, in case they use that knowledge to harm us. It takes a great deal of trust to reveal our most intimate selves to another.

Our relationship with God involves both types of trust. As we step out tentatively in faith, we learn through experience that God will do what he has promised. He has our best interest in mind. Sometimes we go through painful experiences which seem to make no sense. Only in retrospect do we see how God was working for good. Such experiences help our tentative faith to grow into a deeper trust in God's goodness.

But trusting God also means trusting that he is safe to be with. It means being sure that if we approach him, he won't overwhelm us. If we reveal our true selves to him, he won't turn on us in anger, or disapproval, or scorn.

Almost the first thing we learn about God is that he knows our every thought, word and deed (Ps 139). That could be frightening to know. Yet our assurance as Christians rests on the fact that there is no condemnation in Christ Jesus (Rom 8.1). God knows all there is to know about us, and yet he loves and accepts us.

But how well do we know this? I suspect that most of us cope with the idea of God knowing us intimately either by reducing God to something less than he really is, or by attempting to hide certain parts of ourselves from his gaze. The more we learn of the awesomeness of God, the less inclined we feel to be known by him. That is, until we really come to believe, with our hearts as well as our minds, that he is to be trusted. Being fully known by God then becomes a source of joy and strength rather than a fearful thing.

Image by Bob Marjawar from Pixabay  This article originally appeared on "One Candle", my former website. It may be copied (without alteration) for non-commercial use, but please acknowledge its source.

Ruth and Boaz - more than a quaint story

She was a young, childless widow, an immigrant with no property and no income. He was a respectable land owner in a small town. Their story has a touch of romance, but it's hardly the stuff of history. Why is it included in the Bible? What distinguished Ruth and Boaz from those around them, who lived and died, then rested forgotten within a couple of generations? Why does Ruth´s story appear among the Old Testament records of kings and battles?

After her husband´s death, Ruth could have chosen to stay in Moab with her family, as her sister-in-law Orpah did (Ruth 1:8-18). No-one would have criticised her for that. Israel was in a state of chaos, with no clear leadership. As a foreigner, with no means of supporting herself, she would hardly have expected a warm welcome there. Her mother-in-law, Naomi tried to persuade her to return to her own people.

But Naomi's faith had touched Ruth. Her own gods, the gods of Moab, were not like Naomi's God. She felt a bond with the older woman that had nothing to do with self-interest. Naomi had little to offer her, but Ruth decided to go to Bethlehem and trust God for his provision and protection.

No-one would have protested if Boaz had looked after his own interests, as his near kinsman did, rather than caring for Ruth. But Boaz took God's word seriously. He accepted his responsibility towards Ruth, no matter how inconvenient it might be to him. He treated her with the kindness and generosity which Jesus described when he spoke of going the second mile (Matt 5:38-42).

Sometimes God calls on people as leaders, to do mighty deeds. Moses led the Hebrew people out of Egypt. David killed Goliath and enlarged the kingdom of Israel into a powerful nation. Paul travelled immense distances to preach the gospel to the gentiles.

But God also involves himself in the lives of ordinary people, working through their losses and hardships to bring them lasting joy. He uses those willing to be obedient in small things, to bring about results which they themselves could never have imagined. We are not told what became of Orpah and the kinsman who chose not to get involved. But Ruth and Boaz became the ancestors of both King David and Jesus. Their story is recorded for all to read and ponder.

(This article is modified from one which originally appeared in the St Alban's church bulletin and on my previous website, One Candle. Image Neil Palmer (CIAT), Threshing, near Sangrur, SE Punjab, India. November 2011)

Precious gifts

Imagine that a friend gives you a present, rather clumsily wrapped. You know that your friend has very different tastes to yours, in fact, if you were quite truthful, you'd say that they have poor taste. So you unwrap the parcel with some trepidation. Inside you find a plain white candle in some sort of glass candle holder. You try to look impressed, but the thing is unattractive, hideously old-fashioned,and not at all in keeping with your decor. You thank them politely, and as soon as they've gone you put it away in a cupboard and forget about it.

A few weeks later there's a power failure. Stumbling around in the dark, you look for a candle and find your friend's candle holder. Gratefully you light it and at last you have a little light. And now you realise that when the light shines through the glass, the candle holder is exquisitely beautiful. There are colours and patterns in the glass that you couldn't see before.

Sometimes when we try to tell people about Jesus and the gospel, our words are like that candle holder. They seem clumsy and we wish we knew how to present them better. Those listening receive them with polite indifference, even embarrassment, because what we say seems so out-dated, and doesn't at all fit in with their personal "interior decor". Next time we meet them, they seem to have forgotten everything we said. We may be tempted to stop speaking to them about Jesus altogether.

We can pray, though, that one day, in a dark moment in their lives, they will remember our words. When they do, they will discover that with the light of the Holy Spirit shining through them, they are a most precious gift.

Are you more like Timorous, or Mr Fearing?

Timorous and Mr Fearing are two of the characters described by John Bunyan in his allegorical story, The Pilgrim's Progress. Despite the similarity of their names, they have rather different personalities, and come to very different ends.

The Pilgrim, Christian, meets Timorous and his companion Mistrust at the top of the Hill of Difficulty. Unlike Christian who is heading for the Celestial City, Timorous and Mistrust are going the other way. Christian asks "why?" After all, they have already come some way in their journey and struggled up the Hill. Why not keep going? 

Timorous replies "The further we go, the more danger we meet with." He's seen the dangers ahead, he's had enough, and he's going back to the easy life he had in the world. He was never really committed to reaching the Celestial City.

Mr Fearing also falters at every danger and opposition he meets. But unlike Timorous, he stands his ground, quaking, until he finds the courage to go forward. His journey to the Celestial City is slow and painful, for his companions who have to bear with him as well as himself. Yet the Lord seems to take special care of him. And in the end he arrives at his goal.

Two things distinguish Mr Fearing from Timorous. The first is his determination to reach the Celestial City. No matter what lies ahead, he won't turn back, even if he fears going forward. The second is that his greatest fear is not danger or discomfort, but making mistakes. He often missed out on the joys of being a pilgrim because of his lack of assurance. Yet he sometimes showed remarkable courage and spiritual strength.

Bunyan was an astute and experienced pastor. He recognised that Mr Fearing's problem was not that he lacked the will to be a Christian, but that he carried with him a personal weakness. Bunyan also observed that the Lord seemed particularly gentle with such people.

None of us ought to be like Timorous, giving up too soon. No doubt we would all like to be like Great Heart, Faithful, or Valiant-for-Truth - Christians who do great things for the Lord and seem to fear nothing. Yet if we feel like Mr Fearing, we can be assured that God still has a place for us in the Celestial City and will see that we get there.

No goodbyes

"I am with you always, to the very end of the age". (Matt 28.20b)

A few days before she was to start kindy, a little girl began insisting that her mother should let her walk there on her own on the very first day. This seemed rather strange, so her mother tried to find out why it was so important to the child. Eventually the little girl said “Well, if I go on my own I won’t have to say goodbye to you when you leave”. 

We all dislike saying goodbye and being separated from those we love. Yet it’s an inevitable part of life. Friends move away to work in another city, children leave home, sometimes war or persecution drives people apart. The ultimate separation is death, which removes even the possibility of being re-united or keeping in touch. There are no emails or Christmas letters from beyond the grave.

Some find any separation so painful that they become demanding and cling to those who love them. Others build walls around themselves and pretend that they don’t care. But we’re made to be in relationship with other people. We can’t avoid the pain of separation if we want to be human.

Only someone who will never die can promise that he will never leave us or forsake us. Only one who has eternal life could keep such a promise. That one is Jesus. He won’t tire of us and go off to find someone who is better at getting their Christian life together. He won’t abandon us because he has more important things to see to. Death cannot separate us from him. When separation from those we love seems overwhelming, he is there with us, a constant presence in our lives.

Chosen in Christ

You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last—and so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you. John 15:16 (NIV)

Image by Ged Carroll via Flickr

Jesus taught his disciples many things in the three years that he was with them. But when he spoke to them for the final time before his death, we can be sure that he didn’t waste words. What he told them over supper in that upstairs room was of utmost importance. And one of the things that he really wanted them to know was that they did not choose him, but he chose them.

Why was that? Three possible reasons come to mind. First, he wanted to ensure that the disciples would never become arrogant about their position. They would never come to believe that God owed them something for having dedicated their lives to him. They were disciples by his choice, not theirs.

Second, he wanted to avoid becoming a commodity or package, something the disciples would sell to others as ‘a good choice in life’. The person who is called by Christ does not make ‘a decision for Christ’ in order to get the spiritual goods. They are already chosen and can only humbly submit to him as Lord. The disciples were called to bear witness to Christ, not to sell Christianity.

Thirdly, he wanted to give the disciples reassurance in those times when they were tempted to believe that they were not committed enough, not dedicated enough, and therefore not acceptable to God. Peter was about to deny Jesus. Thomas would doubt him. All would abandon him. But that didn’t negate the bond between the disciples and Jesus, because he had chosen them. If it was by their own choice that they followed him, their failure could suggest that they had not been sincere enough in their decision. But if he had chosen them, they were secure. 

That is not to say that following Christ doesn't involve a striving to become a better disciple. But knowing that we are Christ's by his choice, not ours, sets us free from constantly questioning our level of commitment based on our performance. We will avoid the trap of frequently dissecting our past motivation while grimly trying to improve on the commitment we made last week, last month, last year. 

When we fall down, it is our reliance on Christ, not our resolution to follow him, that we need to review. "Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you." is commitment. (Matthew 26:35) "Now, Lord, consider their threats and enable your servants to speak your word with great boldness." is reliance on Christ. (Acts 4:29) We are his, he has chosen us, and he is committed to seeing us bear lasting fruit.

The Lord will be my light

Do not gloat over me, my enemy!
Though I have fallen, I will rise.
Though I sit in darkness,
the Lord will be my light. Micah 7.8

Dungeons are traditionally dark, windowless places. That's no accident. Except for those born blind, human beings find being in the dark for any length of time disturbing. We rely so much on our vision to make sense of the world. Keeping a prisoner in complete darkness is a sure way of torturing their mind and breaking their spirit.

Sometimes life itself seems to become a dark and dreary dungeon. We can't understand what is going on. Our personal lives are shadowed by illness, loss and loneliness. The world around us is dark with disasters, wars, cruelty, threats and human suffering.

This is as true for Christians as it is for anyone else. In fact it can seem worse for Christians. Where is God in the darkness around us? Why is he allowing us to suffer such confusion and disorientation? In those times we are likely to hear a voice whispering to us "God doesn't care! He can't help you. Are you sure he even exists?"

To recognise these whispers as the voice of an enemy, the enemy, rather than our own, is a great relief. To summon the courage to say "I don't know why this is happening, but I know that God is trustworthy and I will wait for him" is often the turning point in our troubles. It's like finding a candle suddenly shining in the darkness. The dungeon doesn't disappear, but we're no longer afraid of the dark.

Praying for others

Jesus compared praying for the needs of others to a man coming to a friend's house at midnight. After waking the whole household with his knocking, he pleads for the loan of three loaves of bread to feed the visitor who has just arrived at his house. (Luke 11:5-8) If such audacity and persistence gets results on earth, says Jesus, you can be assured that it will be just as effective in heaven.

Our 'visitor' need not be aware of our midnight door-knocking. For instance, we might pray silently for the physical and spiritual needs of the people around us as we travel to work, as we meet people during our day, as we watch the news on television or read the newspaper. Such prayers can strengthen our faith when we see answers to our private prayers that can only come from God himself since no-one else knows about them. Even if we never get to know, this side of heaven, how our prayers were answered, bringing others' needs to God in prayer is a wonderful way of ministering to people. (Obviously, if we have the means to provide for their needs out of what God has already provided to us, we should do that too.)

Sometimes, though, we might let our 'visitor' know that we're off to get some bread for them. In other words, we will offer to pray for them. Saying "I'll pray for you" can sometimes be a cop-out from actually doing what's needed, whether that's providing a meal, spending time listening or whatever. But knowing that someone is praying for them is often a great encouragement to the person who is struggling. Even some non-believers appreciate such an offer, though we need to be aware that there are others who will be offended. (We can still pray privately for such people, of course.)

When should we invite our hungry 'visitor' to come with us to our generous friend's house to get bread? That is, when should we offer to pray with someone? In my experience, people are much more eager to have someone pray with them than we are to offer. If the other person is a Christian, asking "Would you like me to pray with you?" is unlikely to cause offense, even if the answer is "No, thanks." We need to be sensitive to the situation - not everyone wants their most intimate problems aired aloud in prayer in public. Some Christians are happy to be prayed for, but are not comfortable about praying out loud themselves. It's probably better not to offer to pray with a non-believer until we know them reasonably well, unless we're prompted by the Holy Spirit to do so.

The advantage of praying aloud with someone is that they hear what we're praying, and can then see how our prayer is answered. The words we use in prayer can be an encouragement, if they remind the person we're praying for of the goodness and faithfulness of God. The disadvantage is that we can slip into the temptation to move from genuine prayer to words as therapy or a form of intimacy. For this reason, it is better in some situations to invite another person to join you in praying for the person in need.

The more we're aware of our own dependence on God, the better we will be at praying for others. The man in Jesus story knew he had nothing to offer his visitor, but he knew he could depend on his friend to provide it. Jesus tells us to keep on knocking on God's door because it will be opened.

I cannot do this alone

From time to time I'd like to provide examples that seem to capture the 'trust and necessity' of prayer. Here's one from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, written while he was imprisoned in Nazi Germany. 

O God, early in the morning I cry to you.
Help me to pray
And to concentrate my thoughts on you:
I cannot do this alone.
In me there is darkness,
But with you there is light;
I am lonely, but you do not leave me;
I am feeble in heart, but with you there is help;
I am restless, but with you there is peace.
In me there is bitterness, but with you there is patience;
I do not understand your ways,
But you know the way for me…
Restore me to liberty,
And enable me to live now
That I may answer before you and before me.
Lord, whatever this day may bring,
Your name be praised.

Praying for God's glory or praying for our needs?

In a previous post I said that one of the essential elements of prayer was a sense of our own or others' need, the 'necessity' of prayer. Yet recently I've been writing about praying in Jesus name in order to do God's will and bring him glory. Aren't these contradictory? Aren't we being selfish or at least human-centred rather than God-centred if we pray for the things we need in our own lives? If we want to glorify God and pray according to his will, shouldn't we focus our prayers on things like evangelism and mission, rather than bothering God with our anxiety over an exam, or the health of our Auntie June?

This sense that our prayers aren't acceptable unless we're constantly praying about great, "spiritual" issues can be crippling to our prayer life. It leads to all sorts of less-than-Christian attitudes to prayer. We might bring our own apparently petty needs to God and then try to parcel them up with some prayers for outreach and missions, in an effort to make them seem more acceptable. In effect we try to strike a bargain with God - if you give me what I want, I'll pray for what you want.

Or we might ignore our own needs altogether and pray only for the big issues. But that leads to self-sufficiency and pride. "Look at all those silly souls praying for their own trivial needs, while I co-operate with God in changing the world."

The problem arises from an inadequate understanding of God's rule and God's kingdom. The kingdom of God is not about ever-so-holy people doing ever-so-spiritual activities. It's about the whole of life being brought under the lordship of Christ. It's about honoring and serving God in everything we do, with our bodies, minds, words, relationships and goods. And it's about longing to see all people, all of creation doing the same.

So in fact we honour God and bring him glory when we acknowledge our needs to him. We extend his kingdom when we pray for the means to overcome sickness, pain and suffering in those around us. We serve him better when we seek his healing for our own weaknesses and failings. We demonstrate his rule in our lives when we bring our relationships to him in prayer.

If we can't acknowledge our trust in God's goodness and reliance on his power to provide for our own relatively simple needs, where will we get the faith to ask for big, world-changing things? And there's no doubt that we are told to pray for governments and leaders, for the sending out of missionaries and evangelists, for the salvation of the lost, for the spiritual growth of other Christians, for the perseverence of those facing persecution for their faith. But it's also God's will that we should pray for our daily bread.

The essence of prayer - trust and necessity

In order for prayer to be real, two things must be present - trust and necessity. I must trust the one to whom I'm praying, and I must have a genuine sense of need. This is true not just of intercessory prayer, but prayers of repentence and thanksgiving too.

Trust, in this context, is really just another name for faith. However, the word trust places the emphasis on the character of the person being prayed to, rather than the faith of the person praying. No amount of faith will help if the one to whom we're praying can't be trusted or is unreliable. I can't make my prayers more effective just by willing myself to have more faith.

Knowledge and experience of the trust-worthiness of God are what lead me to trust that he will respond to my prayers in the best possible way. At first I trust God because the Bible and the witness of the Holy Spirit assure me that he is faithful and loving. Over time my trust grows because I have experienced for myself that God is trustworthy. Prayer is not an all or nothing activity, but something that develops and changes.

The second essential for real prayer is an understanding and acceptance of our neediness, our reliance on God for everything. To pray 'Give us this day our daily bread' while counting on our own efforts is not true prayer. I'm not suggesting that no effort is required on our part to meet our needs. But we must understand that no amount of effort will supply our needs if God does not respond to our efforts by providing for us. Whether we're praying for food for today or the salvation of a whole city tomorrow, we must recognise that "unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labour in vain." (Ps 127.1) Prayer takes nothing for granted except God's goodness and generosity.