The Christian Bubble-Wrap

I used to be hyper-sensitive to the feelings of those around me (probably the product of having a mom with borderline personality), and I never wanted to do anything that would hurt them.

Hurtful things included sharing about my successes or dating a guy that a girl I knew had a crush on—anything that would trigger envy, low self-esteem, a feeling of inequality or a sense of lack. I never wanted to give people the feeling that I was successful or happy. I projected an image of lack and suffering, so that people felt better about themselves after they heard my tales of woe.

I lived life tip-toeing around people’s sensitivities, and I thought I was being a wonderful person. Wasn’t I looking out for my friends without them even knowing it? (the right hand not letting the left hand know it was giving?).

I think much of this had to do with the fact that I grew up in an Asian household in one of the safest large cities in America. I was raised believing my job in life was to be sweet, inoffensive, and of use. Also, since I grew up sheltered in a city known as ‘the bubble,’ I had the instinct to bubble-wrap people. Any sort of mess was a catastrophe, and I felt personally responsible if I caused it.

But now, I realize that it isn’t my job to protect people from their feelings. It’s God’s job and their job to work through their feelings. Being Christian doesn’t mean being “nice” by protecting people from hardship. It means being willing to work through their feelings with them and praying to God to magnify His love and glory in their lives.   

If we had the Spirit to see through God’s eyes and the faith to believe, we’d know that God LOVES everyone. Our present fortune and their present misfortune should NOT generate a sense of inequality, because the tough experiences that that person is going through may be just as great a manifestation of God’s love as any blissful event that we are celebrating.

Thomas: Surviving Our Scars by Jacqueline A. Bussie, Outlaw Christian

But Thomas said to them, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in His hands… I will not believe.’ — John 20:25 As Christians, we are all familiar with the story of Thomas, which we usually understand to convey the lesson that doubt is the opposite of faith and is therefore sinful and wrong.  Can doubt be seen not simply as faith’s wimpy opposite, but instead as a sign of a faith that is alive, vibrant, and in authentic relationship with God?  For today’s devotional, let’s take a closer look at the scriptural story of Thomas to see if that is really what the scripture teaches, or if there is more to the story. The disciple named Thomas speaks only twice in the Gospels. A lot of Christians give Thomas — whom many call “doubting Thomas” — a bad rap, not so much because of what the Gospels say about him, but because of the faith-law that gives doubt a bad rap. In the gospel of John, when Jesus appears to the disciples after His resurrection, no one recognizes Jesus right away. Mary Magdalene, the first to glimpse Jesus at the tomb, mistakes Jesus for the gardener. When Jesus appears later to the male disciples, they don’t recognize Him either until Jesus “showed them His hands and His side” (John 20:20). But Thomas wasn’t there for this; so when the disciples tell Him about these incredible visits from Jesus, he says he won’t believe that they “have seen the Lord” until he sees “the mark of the nails in His hands,” puts his “finger in the mark of the nails,” and puts his “hand in His side” (John 20:25). When Jesus shows up again, He addresses Thomas first thing by saying, Put your finger here and see My hands. Reach out your hand and put it in My side. — John 20:27 Thomas does this and then cries out, My Lord and my God! — John 20:28 What outlaw Christians notice in this story is not the one and only line we are taught to notice — Jesus’ command, “Do not doubt but believe” (v. 27). First, we notice that everyone else in the story fails to recognize Jesus also, but for some strange reason, only poor Thomas gets labeled “doubter.” This suggests the “doubting Thomas” interpretation is an unfair reading that probably misses the point. Second, while everyone else in the story seems to have forgotten Jesus’ suffering (and crucifixion) in light of His glorious resurrection, there is only one person who remembers it — and asks about it. Thomas, in other words, is the only person who remembers Jesus’ whole story — all the hurt, and the hope too. Thomas believes redemption is more than just an erasure of pain. For him, redemption involves the way people live on in spite of the fact that they still carry scars on their skin. Thomas expects scars. If the guy in front of Him doesn’t have scars, Thomas will know He can’t be the Jesus he knew — because the real Jesus suffered something awful. Thomas is the only one in the room brave enough to remember that a friend’s painful wounds still remain without having to be shown them first. He remembers that the suffering of Jesus is real, just like our own suffering. This radical new reading of Thomas helps us make sense of why in the only other Bible story (John 11) in which Thomas speaks, he is beyond a shadow of a doubt — pun intended! — portrayed not as a faithless loser but as the bravest, most loving, authentic friend Jesus has. When Lazarus dies and Mary and Martha beg Jesus to come back to them in Judea, the disciples try to talk Jesus out of it by saying, The Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again? — John 11:8 But Thomas — and only Thomas — pipes up and says, Let us also go, that we may die with Him. — John 11:16 All the other disciples fear for Jesus’ life and their own, but Thomas is willing to die alongside Jesus. It’s so sad that we label Thomas “doubting Thomas,” but ignore the fact that he is also “willing-to-die-with-Jesus Thomas.” What is the ironic point of the story? Could it be that scar-sharing is the solid foundation for any authentic friendship? That no one really knows who we are until we are brave enough to show our scars to them? That the people who have put their fingers and eyes on our scars and still stick with us anyway are the people who understand best how to love us? Thomas’s story teaches us all of these lessons and more. Those people in your life who accept and name suffering for the wounding thing it actually is are the only friends who can ever override the fear of walking with you down all life’s paths of pain. Only people who believe your wounds are real in the first place can ever imagine placing their wounds next to yours. On the cross, God places God’s story of woundedness next to yours. Have you ever considered the telling fact that the Latin word stigmata that Christians have used for centuries to describe Jesus’ scars is just the plural of the English word stigma, meaning a mark of shame, disgrace, or humiliation? Here, our very language exposes the teaching that all scars — even Jesus’ — are stigmas. How many of us have been wounded by this terrible lie and faith-law! Jesus, however, refuses to see His scars as a source of humiliation or shame, or even as a thing to keep hidden. Instead, Jesus readily and boldly shows His scars to His friends. As I see it, Jesus flat-out rejects the idea that we should be ashamed and secretive about the unjust and terrible things other people have done to us. Not only is Thomas unafraid to ask Jesus about His scars, but Jesus is also unafraid to show them to him. Both are heroic actions. Why then are we so terrified of showing our scars or asking anyone about theirs? Are we missing the point of the story, which might just be that scar-sharing brings resurrection? Thomas is like that character in the novel Little Bee who says in one of my favorite quotes: “A scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty…. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived.” While many Christians remember Thomas as the loser who doubted Jesus’ post-resurrection appearance, outlaw Christians remember Thomas instead as the bold friend who, because he refused to believe scars were stigmas, cared enough to ask Jesus about His scars that He survived. Inspired by Thomas, let’s go and do likewise with our friends.

The Opportunity for Great Joy by Ann Voskamp, from One Thousand Gifts Devotional

Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. — James 1:2

“What in the world were you thinking? How many times have we said no running? I am just...” I’m spewing and it’s ugly and the words are so frazzled with frustration they fray midstream. I can feel the slow smothering, the tight choking, and I can feel it in the throat, rising.

My knees are stiff and it’s jarring, how peace can shatter faster than glass, the breakneck speeds at which I can fall — and refuse to bend the knees at all.

I look into the faces of the guilty and a son arcs his eyebrow, shrugs his shoulders, nonchalant.

I hold my head in my hands and ask it honest before God and children and my daily mess:

Can we really expect joy all the time?

I will struggle to heed this until I am no more: “Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy” (James 1:2), and I will listen and again I will listen and I will wrestle to put skin on it: “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” (Philippians 4:4).

I gnaw my lip. The body howls when joy is extinguished. The face shrivels pain, the voice pitches angry cry. “No man can live without joy” is what Thomas Aquinas wrote. And I confess, it is true, I have known many dead waiting to die.

The glass lies everywhere broken.

I may feel disappointment and the despair may flood high, but to give thanks is an action and rejoice is a verb and these are not mere pulsing emotions. While I may not always feel joy, God asks me to give thanks in all things because He knows that the feeling of joy begins in the action of thanksgiving.

I know it well after a day smattered with rowdiness and worn a bit ragged with bickering. Joy doesn’t negate all other emotions — joy transcends all other emotions.

Only self can kill joy.

I’m the one doing this to me. The demanding of my own will is the singular force that smothers out joy — nothing else. Dare I ask what I think I deserve? A life with no discomfort, no inconveniences? What do I really deserve?

God does not give rights but He imparts responsibilities — response-abilities — inviting us to respond to His love-gifts. And I know and can feel it tight: I’m responding miserably to the gift of this moment. In fact, I’m refusing it. Proudly refusing to accept this moment, dismissing it as no gift at all, I refuse God. I reject God. Why is this eucharisteo always so hard?

I had thought joy’s flame needed protecting.

My own wild desire to protect my joy at all costs is the exact force that kills my joy.

But flames need a bit of wind.

I hadn’t known that joy meant dying. I can trust.

I can let go.

Joy — it’s always obedience.

I know it deeper now: This eucharisteo is no game of Pollyanna but the hard edge of blade.

Only self can kill joy.

Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. — James 1:2
Devotionals Daily

The Opportunity for Great Joy
by Ann Voskamp, from One Thousand Gifts Devotional

Meet Ann Voskamp


Proverbs 12:16

Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. — James 1:2

“What in the world were you thinking? How many times have we said no running? I am just...” I’m spewing and it’s ugly and the words are so frazzled with frustration they fray midstream. I can feel the slow smothering, the tight choking, and I can feel it in the throat, rising.

My knees are stiff and it’s jarring, how peace can shatter faster than glass, the breakneck speeds at which I can fall — and refuse to bend the knees at all.

I look into the faces of the guilty and a son arcs his eyebrow, shrugs his shoulders, nonchalant.

I hold my head in my hands and ask it honest before God and children and my daily mess:

Can we really expect joy all the time?

I will struggle to heed this until I am no more: “Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy” (James 1:2), and I will listen and again I will listen and I will wrestle to put skin on it: “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” (Philippians 4:4).

I gnaw my lip. The body howls when joy is extinguished. The face shrivels pain, the voice pitches angry cry. “No man can live without joy” is what Thomas Aquinas wrote. And I confess, it is true, I have known many dead waiting to die.

The glass lies everywhere broken.

I may feel disappointment and the despair may flood high, but to give thanks is an action and rejoice is a verb and these are not mere pulsing emotions. While I may not always feel joy, God asks me to give thanks in all things because He knows that the feeling of joy begins in the action of thanksgiving.

I know it well after a day smattered with rowdiness and worn a bit ragged with bickering. Joy doesn’t negate all other emotions — joy transcends all other emotions.

Only self can kill joy.

I’m the one doing this to me. The demanding of my own will is the singular force that smothers out joy — nothing else. Dare I ask what I think I deserve? A life with no discomfort, no inconveniences? What do I really deserve?

God does not give rights but He imparts responsibilities — response-abilities — inviting us to respond to His love-gifts. And I know and can feel it tight: I’m responding miserably to the gift of this moment. In fact, I’m refusing it. Proudly refusing to accept this moment, dismissing it as no gift at all, I refuse God. I reject God. Why is this eucharisteo always so hard?

I had thought joy’s flame needed protecting.

My own wild desire to protect my joy at all costs is the exact force that kills my joy.

But flames need a bit of wind.

I hadn’t known that joy meant dying. I can trust.

I can let go.

Joy — it’s always obedience.

I know it deeper now: This eucharisteo is no game of Pollyanna but the hard edge of blade.

Only self can kill joy.

I take a long deep breath. I step from the stairs, stairs that have led all the way down into this.

I kneel down into a mess of glass.

Eucharisteo makes the knees the vantage point of a life. I bend, and the body, it says it quiet: “Thy will be done.” This is the way a body and a mouth say thank you: Thy will be done. This is the way the self dies, falls into the arms of Love.

This is why. This is why the fight for joy is always so hard.

“No one who ever said to God, ‘Thy will be done,’ and meant it with his heart, ever failed to find joy — not just in heaven, or even down the road in the future in this world, but in this world at that very moment,” asserts Peter Kreeft. “Every other Christian who has ever lived has found exactly the same thing in his own experience. It is an experiment that has been performed over and over again billions of times, always with the same result.”

I am kneeling in glass and my memories of shattered glass and Jesus comes soft — “Thy will be done” is My own joy story, child, from beginning to end.

And I hear it soft too, what all His life speaks: Joy is in the acquiescing.

A circle of children stand around me, watching, waiting. Long slivers of transparency, blades, lie before me, catching light.


Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. — James 1:2
Devotionals Daily

The Opportunity for Great Joy
by Ann Voskamp, from One Thousand Gifts Devotional

Meet Ann Voskamp


Proverbs 12:16

Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. — James 1:2

“What in the world were you thinking? How many times have we said no running? I am just...” I’m spewing and it’s ugly and the words are so frazzled with frustration they fray midstream. I can feel the slow smothering, the tight choking, and I can feel it in the throat, rising.

My knees are stiff and it’s jarring, how peace can shatter faster than glass, the breakneck speeds at which I can fall — and refuse to bend the knees at all.

I look into the faces of the guilty and a son arcs his eyebrow, shrugs his shoulders, nonchalant.

I hold my head in my hands and ask it honest before God and children and my daily mess:

Can we really expect joy all the time?

I will struggle to heed this until I am no more: “Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy” (James 1:2), and I will listen and again I will listen and I will wrestle to put skin on it: “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” (Philippians 4:4).

I gnaw my lip. The body howls when joy is extinguished. The face shrivels pain, the voice pitches angry cry. “No man can live without joy” is what Thomas Aquinas wrote. And I confess, it is true, I have known many dead waiting to die.

The glass lies everywhere broken.

I may feel disappointment and the despair may flood high, but to give thanks is an action and rejoice is a verb and these are not mere pulsing emotions. While I may not always feel joy, God asks me to give thanks in all things because He knows that the feeling of joy begins in the action of thanksgiving.

I know it well after a day smattered with rowdiness and worn a bit ragged with bickering. Joy doesn’t negate all other emotions — joy transcends all other emotions.

Only self can kill joy.

I’m the one doing this to me. The demanding of my own will is the singular force that smothers out joy — nothing else. Dare I ask what I think I deserve? A life with no discomfort, no inconveniences? What do I really deserve?

God does not give rights but He imparts responsibilities — response-abilities — inviting us to respond to His love-gifts. And I know and can feel it tight: I’m responding miserably to the gift of this moment. In fact, I’m refusing it. Proudly refusing to accept this moment, dismissing it as no gift at all, I refuse God. I reject God. Why is this eucharisteo always so hard?

I had thought joy’s flame needed protecting.

My own wild desire to protect my joy at all costs is the exact force that kills my joy.

But flames need a bit of wind.

I hadn’t known that joy meant dying. I can trust.

I can let go.

Joy — it’s always obedience.

I know it deeper now: This eucharisteo is no game of Pollyanna but the hard edge of blade.

Only self can kill joy.

I take a long deep breath. I step from the stairs, stairs that have led all the way down into this.

I kneel down into a mess of glass.

Eucharisteo makes the knees the vantage point of a life. I bend, and the body, it says it quiet: “Thy will be done.” This is the way a body and a mouth say thank you: Thy will be done. This is the way the self dies, falls into the arms of Love.

This is why. This is why the fight for joy is always so hard.

“No one who ever said to God, ‘Thy will be done,’ and meant it with his heart, ever failed to find joy — not just in heaven, or even down the road in the future in this world, but in this world at that very moment,” asserts Peter Kreeft. “Every other Christian who has ever lived has found exactly the same thing in his own experience. It is an experiment that has been performed over and over again billions of times, always with the same result.”

I am kneeling in glass and my memories of shattered glass and Jesus comes soft — “Thy will be done” is My own joy story, child, from beginning to end.

And I hear it soft too, what all His life speaks: Joy is in the acquiescing.

A circle of children stand around me, watching, waiting. Long slivers of transparency, blades, lie before me, catching light.

I humbly open my hand.

Without a word, one by one, they come to the outer edges and they kneel too.

And I humbly open my hand to release my will to receive His, to accept His wind. I accept the gift of now as it is — accept God — for I can’t be receptive to God unless I receive what He gives. Joy’s light flickers, breathes, fueled by the will of God — fueled by Him.

A shaft filters through an afternoon window and the cracks of the aged wood revive in sun.

I pray.

I let go. Lay the hand open. The sun slides across old hairline scars.

My palm holds light.

Lord God, You ask me to give thanks in all things today — because You know that the feeling of joy begins in the action of thanksgiving. Today, cause me to do Your will, not mine — and let me release my desire to protect my joy at all costs. Today, open my hand to joy in surrendered obedience.

*Eucharisteo is a Greek word that means “to be grateful; to give thanks”

“And He took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them…” (Luke 22:19). In the original language, “He gave thanks” reads “eucharisteo.” One of Christ’s very last directives He offers to His disciples is to take the bread, the wine, and to remember. Do this in remembrance of Me. Remember and give thanks. This is the crux of Christianity: to remember and give thanks, eucharisteo.

Redeem the Time by Joel Osteen

One day I decided to quit...I quit my job, my relationship, my Spirituality. I went to the woods to have one last talk with God. "God", I said. "Can you give me one good reason not to quit?" 

His answer surprised me." Look around", He said. "Do you see the fern and the bamboo?" 

"Yes", I replied.

"When I planted the fern and the bamboo seeds, I took very good care of them. I gave them light. I gave them water. The fern quickly grew from the earth. Its brilliant green covered the floor. Yet nothing came from the bamboo seed. But I did not quit on the bamboo. In the second year the Fern grew more vibrant and plentiful. And again, nothing came from the bamboo seed. But I did not quit on the bamboo."

 "In year three there was still nothing from the bamboo seed. But I would not quit. In year four, again, there was nothing from the bamboo seed. I would not quit," He said. 

"Then in the fifth year a tiny sprout emerged from the earth. Compared to the fern it was seemingly small and insignificant...But just 6 months later the bamboo rose to over 100 feet tall. It had spent the five years growing roots. Those roots made it strong and gave it what it needed to survive. I would not give any of my creations a challenge it could not handle." 

He said to me, "Did you know, my child, that all this time you have been struggling, you have actually been growing roots? I would not quit on the bamboo. I will never quit on you."
"Don't compare yourself to others." He said. "The bamboo had a different purpose than the fern. Yet they both make the forest beautiful." 

"Your time will come", God said to me. "You will rise high"

"How high should I rise?" I asked.

"How high will the bamboo rise?" He asked in return.

"As high as it can?" I questioned.

"Yes." He said, "Give me glory by rising as high as you can."

Foreward : The Alchemist

Foreword to 10th anniversary edition of The Alchemist

Ten Years On
I remember receiving a letter from the American publisher, Harper Collins, which said that: “reading The Alchemist was like getting up at dawn and seeing the sun rise while the rest of the world still slept.” I went outside, looked up at the sky and thought to myself: “So, the book is going to be published in English!” At the time, I was struggling to establish myself as a writer and to follow my path despite all the voices telling me it was impossible.

And little by little, my dream was becoming reality. Ten, a hundred, a thousand, a million copies sold in America. One day, a Brazilian journalist phoned to say that President Clinton had been photographed reading the book. Some time later, when I was in Turkey, I opened the magazine Vanity Fair and there was Julia Roberts declaring that she adored the book. Walking alone down a street in Miami, I heard a girl telling her mother: “You must read The Alchemist!”

The book has been translated into 67 languages, has sold more than 65 million copies, and people are beginning to ask: What’s the secret behind such a huge success?

The only honest response is: I don’t know. All I know is that, like Santiago the shepherd boy, we all need to be aware of our personal calling. What is a personal calling? It is God’s blessing, it is the path that God chose for you here on Earth. Whenever we do something that fills us with enthusiasm, we are following our legend. However, we don’t all have the courage to confront our own dream.
Why?

There are four obstacles. First: we are told from childhood onwards that everything we want to do is impossible. We grow up with this idea, and as the years accumulate, so too do the layers of prejudice, fear and guilt. There comes a time when our personal calling is so deeply buried in our soul as to be invisible. But it’s still there.

If we have the courage to disinter dream, we are then faced by the second obstacle: love. We know what we want to do, but are afraid of hurting those around us by abandoning everything in order to pursue their dream. We do not realize that love is just a further impetus, not something that will prevent them going forwards. We do not realize that those who genuinely wish us well want us to be happy and are prepared to accompany us on that journey.

Once we have accepted that love is a stimulus, we come up against the third obstacle: fear of the defeats we will meet on the path. We who fight for our dream, suffer far more when it doesn’t work out, because we cannot fall back on the old excuse: “Oh, well, I didn’t really want it anyway.” We do want it and know that we have staked everything on it and that the path of the personal calling is no easier than any other path, except that our whole heart is in this journey. Then, we warriors of light must be prepared to have patience in difficult times and to know that the Universe is conspiring in our favor, even though we may not understand how.

I ask myself: are defeats necessary?
Well, necessary or not, they happen. When we first begin fighting for our dream, we have no experience and make many mistakes. The secret of life, though, is to fall seven times and to get up eight times.

So, why is it so important to live our personal calling if we are only going to suffer more than other people?
Because, once we have overcome the defeats – and we always do – we are filled by a greater sense of euphoria and confidence. In the silence of our hearts, we know that we are proving ourselves worthy of the miracle of life. Each day, each hour, is part of the good fight. We start to live with enthusiasm and pleasure. Intense, unexpected suffering passes more quickly than suffering that is apparently bearable; the latter goes on for years and, without our noticing, eats away at our soul, until, one day, we are no longer able to free ourselves from the bitterness and it stays with us for the rest of our lives.
Having disinterred our dream, having used the power of love to nurture it and spent many years living with the scars, we suddenly notice that what we always wanted is there, waiting for us, perhaps the very next day. Then comes the fourth obstacle: the fear of realizing the dream for which we fought all our lives.

Oscar Wilde said: ‘each man kills the thing he loves’. And it’s true. The mere possibility of getting what we want fills the soul of the ordinary person with guilt. We look around at all those who have failed to get what they want and feel that we do not deserve to get what we want either. We forget about all the obstacles we overcame, all the suffering we endured, all the things we had to give up in order to get this far. I have known a lot of people who, when their personal calling was within their grasp, went on to commit a series of stupid mistakes and never reached their goal – when it was only a step away.

This is the most dangerous of the obstacles because it has a kind of saintly aura about it: renouncing joy and conquest. But if you believe yourself worthy of the thing you fought so hard to get, then you become an instrument of God, you help the Soul of the World and you understand why you are here.

Failing to be Perfect (Telos) by Dave Brubaker from Newsong Church

“If there is such a thing as human perfection, it seems to emerge precisely from how we handle the imperfection that is everywhere, especially our own. What a clever place for God to hide holiness, so that only the humble and earnest will find it! A ‘perfect’ person ends up being one who can consciously forgive and include imperfection rather than one who thinks he or she is totally above and beyond imperfection.”
-Richard Rohr, Falling Upward


“Be perfect, therefore, as your Heavenly Father is perfect.”
–Matthew 5:48



 

We sang a song on Sunday that made me think of that verse.  In the bridge of "Good, Good Father" it says, “You are perfect in all of your ways to us.”

I think most of us would agree that’s true about God, but Matthew 5:48 says it should be true of us too.  Instantly we can come up with all kinds of objections:

“I’m only human.” (so was Jesus)

“I’m supposed to live by the same standard as Jesus??” (that’s what the verse says)

“Sounds like one of those Old Testament type verses that don’t apply anymore.” (it’s in the New Testament)

“But Jesus is God!!!” (Yes, and we are His Body!!!)

“I don’t believe in religious perfectionism.” (neither does God)

“But how can I be perfect when I’m such a mess???” (that’s a good question)

Yes, we’re all a mess.  But that’s what’s so crazy about the gospel: the thing I thought disqualified me is the reason I got picked.  God takes messed up people like me and you and says: “Be perfect, like Me.”

More objections:

“But NOBODY’S PERFECT, right???  I definitely get the MESSY part but being perfect???  I thought the gospel was about GRACE.”

OK, OK, calm down, jeez!!!  I never said the gospel’s not about grace.  But I also don’t think we can just IGNORE the fact that Jesus said, “Be perfect like your Heavenly Father is perfect.”  He didn’t say, “Try to be perfect” or “I know this is impossible but it sounds catchy, doesn’t it?”  He said “Be perfect” like it was a perfectly reasonable thing to say.

Here’s where it might help to check the Greek (since he technically never said these words IN ENGLISH — maybe there’s a loophole!!!)  The Greek word for “perfect” is teleios (which my computer tried to autocorrect to toeless — no Siri, I don't think Jesus is telling us to cut off our toes).

TELEIOS.  As soon as I saw that word, I got excited – I once preached a whole sermon on the noun version of that word: Telos.  In Greek philosophy it was understood that EVERYTHING HAS A TELOS, whether it’s a table or a spider or YOU.  This is what Paul was talking about in Acts 20:24 – “I consider my life worth nothing unless I teleiōsai" – unless I finish the race, unless I complete the work, unless I fulfill the assignment that God gave me to do.”

I don’t know about you but that makes me very excited.  It completely changes what it means to “Be perfect as my Heavenly Father is perfect."  Instead of religious perfectionism, it’s saying: DO WHAT YOU WERE MADE TO DO, JUST LIKE YOUR DAD DOES.

What is that for you?

Stop letting who you’re not define who you are.  Jesus said, "Follow me, and I’LL MAKE YOU fishers of men.”  He’ll MAKE YOU — in his presence, YOU’LL BECOME that person, in his presence he’ll transform you into who you need to be to accomplish the work he’s called you to do.

PS I almost forgot the best/worst part, a point Mike Erre made from Matthew 16:21 – if you do this right, there's a good chance the world will view it as a huge failure.

"If any of you think you are wise by the standards of this age, you should become “fools” so that you may become wise."

So, what are we waiting for?  Let’s go be PERFECT together.

What We Can Learn From Matthrew About Faith and Anxiety

What We Can Learn From Matthew About Faith and Anxiety

Matthew 6: 25-34, 8: 23-27, 14: 13-33

1.     Why did Jesus tell His disciples—you give them something to eat?

Jesus wanted to test his disciples’ faith and make them appreciate the magnitude of the challenge of feeding 5000+ people. Jesus had previously calmed the wind and waves. Did the disciples believe that He had authority over everything? When the disciples responded to Jesus’ request, they pointed out the limitations of their situation rather than Jesus’ power. This is often what we do!

2.     Three times in just a few sentences Matthew uses the word immediately — always of Jesus. What does this say about Jesus?

a.     Jesus made the disciples get into a boat and go on ahead of Him “immediately.”

                                               i.     Jesus is decisive. He had 5000+ people clamoring for his help and probably adoring him over the miracle He just worked. But He knows what to do and when, and he values quiet time with the Father. So rather than reveling in the crowd’s adoration, He sends the crowd packing, tells the disciples to take off in a boat, and goes up to a mountain to spend time in prayer.

b.     When the disciples thought they were seeing a ghost and cried out in fear, Jesus answered them “immediately.”

                                               i.     Jesus is close to those who are afraid. He is compassionate and will respond “immediately” if the situation calls for it. Jesus is the one in danger—he’s the one walking on water in the middle of a lake!

c.     When Peter began to sink and cried out for help, Jesus “immediately” reached out his hand and caught him.

                                               i.     Again, Jesus demonstrates his compassion. He could’ve let Peter duck in the water a little to discipline him over his lack of faith. Peter was walking towards Jesus but never made it there. The fact that Jesus was there “immediately” suggests that Jesus moved supernaturally quickly to get to Peter. This is what He does to get to us.

Every time Jesus calls a disciple to follow Him, the disciples “immediately” drop everything and follow Him (Matthew 4). Every time Jesus heals, the miracle is manifest “immediately” (Mark).

3.     Matthew tells us that Jesus comes to the disciples “during the fourth watch of the night.” The Romans divided the night into four shifts: 6:00–9:00; 9:00-midnight; midnight–3:00; and 3:00–6:00. So Jesus came to the disciples sometime after 3 o’clock. The boat was on the lake since the previous sunset. Why did Jesus only show up at the fourth watch of the night?

The disciples’ boat is “a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it.” This is a rather tense situation! The disciples had gone into the boat in the afternoon but by dawn they still hadn’t crossed to the other side. This suggests that either the lake is huge or that the wind is driving the disciples in the wrong direction. The phrase “against it” suggests that the wind was driving the disciples in the wrong direction and they couldn’t overcome it. No doubt they were feeling anxious, alone and stranded.

 It doesn’t say if Jesus expected to cross the lake in a second boat. Even if He had a boat, the disciples probably weren’t expecting to see Him. If they set out earlier but hadn’t made it across, they certainly wouldn’t expect Jesus to catch up to them so quickly. But when the time is right, Jesus will walk on water to get to us. He will show up when we least expect it and He will do in a method that we least expect! Unlike the previous times, Jesus didn’t respond “immediately.” He waited to test the disciples’ faith.

4.     What was Peter asking when he said, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” What does Peter’s request say about him? What would you have asked for in that situation?

Peter’s response shows his doubt and faith simultaneously. He addresses this “ghost” as “Lord” but follows up by saying, “if it is you.” He’s trying to take a leap of faith that Jesus is who He says He is and that Jesus is walking on water because He’s God’s Son. Peter is bold, eager, and adventurous. He wants to imitate Christ despite the risks. He has faith that, on a word or command from Jesus, he too can walk on water. His faith is very much like the Centurion whom Jesus praised! In believing that Jesus can work miracles by word alone, Peter and the Centurion are acknowledging that Jesus is the Son of God.

Notice that Peter doesn’t use his ability to walk on water to go exploring about the lake. In other words, he doesn’t use this ability frivolously. He uses this ability to go toward Jesus. Peter doesn’t expect Jesus to come all the way. Jesus came out partway and Peter went to meet Him there. The distance of water between Jesus and Peter is the measure of Peter’s walk of faith. Many of us are like toddlers, learning to walk in faith but often stumbling.

Personally (this might be what the other disciples did), I would’ve asked Jesus to get into the boat before he drowns or catches a chill and then I’d ask him to calm the waves for safe passage. I’d want to play on the safe side of things. Peter didn’t just want to play on the safe side; he asked God to help him do incredible things, and God answered his prayer!

5.     Why did Peter start to sink?

“When he saw the wind, he was afraid.” I’d imagine that, at first, his eyes were fixed on his destination, Jesus. Then maybe a gust of wind or wave came and he got distracted. He sank because he kept his eyes on the challenge and not on Jesus!

6.     Why did the wind and waves cease only when Jesus and Peter got back in the boat? Why didn’t Jesus calm the waves before?

Because of love! He wanted the disciples to grow in faith!

How earnestly can you pray the lyrics to Oceans? When I was a new believer, I sang this song super loudly in church. But a few years later, I’m much more serious and contemplative about praying to “go deeper than my feet could ever wander.” Like Peter, I often start off eager but am unable to complete the task I promised to do (or at least, I’m unable to remain joyful about it).

This reminds me of the hobbits in The Lord of the Rings. Elrond said that Merry and Pippin had no idea what they were getting themselves into. Gandalf answered that if you told them, they might be too afraid to go but they’d feel bad about being afraid; people will never be completely prepared; sometimes when people dive into mysteries in faith, they’ll find unexpected strength to pull through.  

"Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)"

You call me out upon the waters

The great unknown where feet may fail

And there I find You in the mystery

In oceans deep

My faith will stand

And I will call upon Your name

And keep my eyes above the waves

When oceans rise

My soul will rest in Your embrace

For I am Yours and You are mine

Your grace abounds in deepest waters

Your sovereign hand

Will be my guide

Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me

You've never failed and You won't start now

And I will call upon Your name…

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders

Let me walk upon the waters

Wherever You would call me

Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander

And my faith will be made stronger

In the presence of my Savior

Oh, Jesus, you're my God!

And I will call upon Your name…