I also have it on good authority that it will happen.

Ah, I know what some of you are thinking: the you who think you know me, that is. You’re thinking I already am one of most loving people you know, but the trouble is, you don’t know me, know me. You can fool some of the people some of the time…

And those of you who do know me, well, I see that knowing little smirk on your faces! I have glommed onto your thoughts like a blind man reading braille, also. Those smiles tell me that you’ve been waiting a long time for me to see the Light—that I am like the Frost poem, “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening” where the subject still has “miles to go…”

Yeah, I’m onto you.

But back to my stated position. I have it on good authority that what I seek will come to be, since I have come to understand prayer as more finding the will of God on a matter and praying that back to Him, rather than a monologue of wishes on a premeditated list. It’s clear to me that this salvation journey I am on includes His bringing me into fullness. Into glory. Or, as Paul put it to the Ephesians: ‘to grow me up to the Full Man, which is Christ’ (my paraphrase from 4:13).

That, o friends o’ mine, tells me that it is His intention that I live as He lived, walk as He walked, obey as He obeyed and love as He loved. And so, as I leeched onto His will for me, I decided to pray in expectation that He will do this thing in me. Granted, He’s got some work to do.

It’s a tall order, and I have fallen woefully short.

Granted.

But back to the premise. Er, the promise. When we “pray the prayer of the kingdom” (as Evan Roberts coined it), and learn the Father’s will, we can have the assurance that what we ask is truly from Him and our asking will lead to its doing (see Matt 6:10; Matt 18:18-20; Mark 11:22-24*).

So…I aimed for the fences with my asking.

I just said to myself: Why go little, when you can go TALL?

Here’s what my journal said just the other day:

“Father, You know what I ask for me: I desire to have all envy, jealousy, bitterness, forgiveness, vengeance and offense redeemed out of me! I desire to be the most loving person people will ever meet—whether they like me or not. Whether persecuted, I bless. Ignored, I rejoice. Overlooked or bypassed, I praise. Despised, I love. Hurt, I forgive. Treated discourteously, I return kindness. Belittled (even in attitude), I submit. Forsaken, I triumph.

“Lord Jesus, I trust You to save me from myself. Your work is finished, which is my set hope for my “finished” course. I turn to You to do the impossible. With God, all things are possible. Even these hopeless, endemic, pandemic issues in my flesh.

“You will answer this prayer of mine because I know I pray Your will. You will bring me all the way into glory, victoriously, not by the skin of my teeth…”

It occurs to me that my birthday is in four days. Hint, hint. I pretty much know what I want and I have stated it here. There is no hope it will be done by September 3rd (did I mention that was my birthday?), but I have every hope it will be done in time to see Christ Jesus, for “when I see Him, I will be like Him, for I shall see Him as He is.” (1 John 3:2)

I just want a head start.

*These each presume the pray-er has already learned the will of God

Something happened last week. I went on a retreat with an amazing spiritual director / teacher named Jan Johnson. By the end of our time together I realized that I’m done with living like a Christian.

• I’m done serving the poor.
• I’m done going the extra mile.
• I’m done being a husband who strives to love his wife as Christ loves the church.
• I’m done visiting the sick.
• I’m done opening up my life to Christian community.
• I’m done loving my neighbor.
• I’m done living with integrity.
• I’m done loving my enemies.
• I’m done giving finances to global causes.
• I’m done opposing violence.
• I’m done speaking out against hatred.
• I’m done standing up for the marginalized.
• I’m D-O-N-E done…

This past week made me realize that doing all these things won’t change the world. That’s because the world can’t be changed unless God changes me.

For the past several years, ups and downs defined my spiritual life. Moments in the journey were some of the most intimate encounters with Jesus that I’ve known. Real (nearly tangible) experiences, that can’t be explained by anything but the power of the Holy Spirit, took place. Other moments, when I showed love to a neighbor, prayed for an enemy, served the poor… these were times when Jesus was right there with me.

Then there were the times when I got stuck trying to live like Jesus. In the Christian world we call these “good works” or “ethics.” I made my aim “doing” rather than “being.” By “doing” I believed that my “being” would be consumed by an experience of the life of God. Unfortunately, the God encounters often fade when all my time is spent “doing” or theorizing about such “doing.”

For me, it’s time to stop doing. It’s time to simply be done. Done “doing” because the Holy Spirit invites us to stop and to “be.”

• To be the kind of person who serves the poor.
• Be the kind of person who goes the extra mile.
• Be the kind of person who is an awesome self-giving husband.
• Be the kind of person who visits the sick.
• Be the kind of person who opens my life up to Christian community.
• Be the kind of person who loves my neighbor.
• Be the kind of person who chooses integrity.
• Be the kind of person who loves enemies.
• Be the kind of person who gives generously to global causes.
• Be the kind of person who responds to evil with creative nonviolence.
• Be the kind of person who not only speaks out against hatred, but who suffers for the sake of the hated.
• Be the kind of person who stands in the margins with those who’ve been placed there by society (and even the church).
• I want to BE, and in the process, become a different kind of follower of Jesus.

Why the distinction? It’s easy to follow the Sermon on the Mount and other ethical teachings of Jesus and to miss the Christ who taught such things.

Dallas Willard puts it this way:

Jesus never expected us simply to turn the other cheek, go the second mile, bless those who persecute us, give unto them that ask, and so forth. These responses, generally and rightly understood to be characteristic of Chrsitlikeness, were put forth by him as illustrative of what might be expected of a new kind of person – one who intelligently and steadfastly seeks, above all else, to live within the rule of God and be possessed by the kind of righteousness that God himself has, as Matthew 6:33 portrays. Instead, Jesus did invite people to follow him into that sort of life from which behavior such as loving one’s enemies will seem like the only sensible and happy thing to do. For a person living that life, the hard thing to do would be to hate the enemy, to turn the supplicant away, or to curse the curser… True Christlikeness, true companionship with Christ, comes at the point where it is hard not to respond as he would.[1]

So, yes, I’m done with living like a Christian. I’m trading that in for living in a deeper relationship with Christ. I want to know Jesus. I want to hear Jesus. I want to be empowered by Jesus. Not simply in theory as I do the good things that he calls us to do, but as the natural outflow of intimacy with God. The former way “gets the job done.” The latter way changes the world.

For me, this means a new-found intentionality of placing myself in a position to hear from the Spirit. Spiritual practices like – solitude, Sabbath, lectio divina, silence, confession, prayer, and practicing the presence of God – these neglected areas of my life have led to a Christianity defined by “doing” rather than “being.”

My prayer for us is that our intimate relationships with Christ would make it impossible to not respond with the ethics marked out by the Kingdom of God. Not out of effort to do good things, but out of our efforts to know Jesus Christ through an awareness of the presence of God’s Spirit. When this becomes normative, we won’t be able to help it… we will just start looking like Jesus.

[1] Dallas Willard, The Spirit of the Disciplines: Understanding How God Changes Lives,7-8.

We are distressed/hard-pressed/troubled/squeezed on every side…
(Paul, 2 Corinthians 4:8)

Nobody puts ‘Baby’ in a corner.
(Johnny Castle, Dirty Dancing)

I’m feeling ‘hemmed in’ these days. Diminished. Limited. Grounded, like a teenager: no keys, no car, no friends. Just school, then home.

On top of that, I feel cornered. Outnumbered.

It’s redolent of a scene in Thor where the Viking hero and his compatriots infiltrate the Frost Giant’s lair and are met by a relentless enemy in wave after wave, each giant becoming more formidable than the last and more numerous than before.

Yeah, that captures it nicely.

On every front a vexing battle is being waged and it seems like I am losing ground.

Ministry.

Family.

Finances.

Friends.

Health.

Some fronts are more like skirmishes while others border on “Shock and Awe.” These days I look like the Arizona border, Iraq (in March, 2003) and Afghanistan all rolled into one.

Lord, is it warfare?

Am I being downsized? Capsized? Ostracized?

Then, like good news from home, these words came for me when I was about to arrive at some ill-advised conclusions:

On your behalf I speak to adversity, for I the Lord come to bring the power of My voice over the power that has come against you. For, I have been given all authority, and by that authority I speak over your life that you may be totally free from all adversity, oppression, depression, fear, anxiety and worry. When I am with you, you cannot be defeated. I speak into your life–peace be still. And, there will come a great calm and a great benefit. No longer allow yourself to sit down in the very pit and doldrums of failure, but arise to new heights. As the sun rises each day, arise and shine for you are the people of light; the children of light and the glory of My kingdom upon the earth. It is time for you to come to a new understanding of who you are in Me and who I am in you. It is time for you to feel the power of My wind upon you; the power of the wind that flows through your mind and regenerates your spirit. Come this day and receive a fresh baptism and allow the wind of My Spirit to move you and to lift you. Come and fly with Me, says the Lord.

On the other hand, I could be hearing:

Snip, snip.

That doesn’t negate the rhema word. Whether I’m being intentionally hemmed in (like a time-out for an unreasonable child) or it’s just my time for the gardener’s shears—either way—my trust is in God and I purpose to stay the course.

Faith may not know where it’s going, but it is in love with its Leader.

In faith, this day, I have it on good authority that I am not being shelved or downsized. Neither are you. We’re being prepped for reassignment. “Faithful is He who calls you, who also will do it.”

In faith, this day, I declare that “friends may fail me, foes assail me” but, hear this enemy: “He my Savior makes me whole.” Jesus. What a Friend for Sinners. I know He loves me to death, but not like Lenny in Of Mice and Men who loved a little too hard. His Hands enfold me, they do not crush me.

Though He slay me…even if there’s no seed in the barn and the cattle barns are empty…no figs on the branches…if this infection never leaves my body and my leg falls off…if (fill in your own blank here)…

Either way.

Whatever.

I say:

I will rejoice in the Lord!
I will be joyful in the God of my salvation!
The Sovereign Lord is my strength!
He makes me sure-footed as a deer, able to tread upon the heights!
(Habakkuk 3:17-19)

Hemmed in. Targeted. Isolated. Pressed on every side. Fire on one side and flood on the other.

Do not despair, o my soul.

He always brings us through and out, and gloriously IN.

Related articles (some I haven’t proofread entirely, mind you):

• Watch Rob’s Story
• Will I Get Through This?. (greatriversofhope.wordpress.com)
• Thoughts about what I read this morning (standingatthedoor.wordpress.com)
• Habakkuk 3:19 (jantzika.wordpress.com)

I think it would sound a lot like this:

Don’t be fooled by me. Don’t be fooled by the face I wear. I wear a mask. I wear a thousand masks – masks that I am afraid to take off; and none of them are me.

Pretending is an art that is second nature to me, but don’t be fooled. F0r my sake, don’t be fooled. I give the impression that I am secure, that’s all is sunny and unruffled within me as well as without; that confidence is my name and coolness my game, that the water is calm and I am in command; and that I need no one. But don’t believe me, please. My surface may seem smooth, but my surface is my mask, my ever varying and ever concealing mask.

Beneath lies no smugness, no complacence. Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in fear, in aloneness. But I hide that. I don’t want anybody to know it. I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear being exposed. That’s why I frantically create a mask to hide behind – a nonchalant, sophisticated facade – to help me pretend, to shield me from the glance that knows. But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only salvation, and I know it. That is, if it’s followed by acceptance; if it’s followed by love.

It’s the only thing that can liberate me from myself, from my own self-built prison wall, from the barriers I so painstakingly erect. It’s the only thing that will assure me of what I can’t assure myself – that I am really something…

Who am I, you may wonder. I am someone you know very well. I am every man you meet. I am every woman you meet. I am every child you meet. I am right in front of you. Please… love me.

Denis Waitley – Seeds of Greatness, pg 26-27

Yeah, I can hear the objections now.

I don’t claim this!

I won’t speak those lies over myself!

Okay. All right. Sorry I brought it up. Let’s paste on our piety one more week. Offer up one more hollow hallelujah and cardboard profile.  Another standard Hallmark greeting and stained-glass smile.

And cry and die a little more on the inside.

But…(I’m asking!)…what if?

What if the realest and safest place we could find on weekends was not the bar or the gym but our places of worship?

When Abraham Lincoln assumed presidency over a fragile nation, there were 33 states in the Union. Five months later, 27 remained. Virginia, birthplace of seven United States presidents, was expected to tag along. The new president had said he’d rather be assassinated than to see a single star pulled from the flag, but the “great experiment” called America seemed to be coming apart at the seams.

“We will NOT have this man to be king over us!”

Would it, could it, survive?

Thousands.

That’s how many “followed” Jesus long before there was Twitter. They hung on His every word. He spoke their lingo and they liked that His simple lifestyle ran counter to the other rabbis and professional ministers who flouted, flaunted, fleeced and derided them. The religious dudes made them feel condemned. Hopeless. This man was different. Though a holy man, He was not religious and untouchable. It was as common to see him at a dinner party with undesirables as it was to see Him mixing it up with theologues and seminarians. If Jesus was a Facebook button, they would ‘like’ Him…

Oh! And the miracles?

Icing on the cake, baby.

Blindness, gone. Demons, gone. Leprosy, gone. My uncle who has never walked? Saw him skipping through town the other day.

Hungry? Just go see this Guy. He can fix you up.

This was pretty much the climate of the day. For a season. If there was such a thing as a vote, and a vote were held, this Guy was a shoo-in for King. As long as He kept them in bread.

Then one day, just like that, the honeymoon ended. It started out all right. Word spread that the Rabbi was giving a sermon in a synagogue. Don’t know where? Just follow your neighbors. They know someone who knows someone who knows where to go. Don’t bother packing a lunch. It’s a safe bet that your meal is included.

The air in Capernaum was buzzing and crackling. The synagogue was filled to the gills and it was uncertain if the old church could hold them all. It was probably going to be epic. The man called Jesus might just announce His candidacy for King. Who knows? Anyhow, He’s got my vote.

Anticipation was high. All the whisperings in the crowd had to do with what was on the menu. Would quail just magically appear on plates? Would the sky rain bread?

Instead of working the crowd, the Rabbi’s tone carried a weight, a certain gravity. He seemed deadly serious. No rah-rah. No trumpeted charge. No shmoozing. No campaign promises.

Clearly, it wasn’t going to be: YES WE CAN!

It was more like: Oh no, He didn’t.

So long as it feels like a vacation, a honeymoon, a good meal, a shopping day, a parade, Christmas morning, a cute baby in a rustic manger, a dinner party with friends, or being the center of attention, I’m good. As long as you’re hammering on those people, reading them the riot act, overturning their tables, I’ll go along.

Just don’t put me in Your sermon.

I don’t want to be obsessed with You. I just need You around. It’s cool with me just to know you’re there, especially when I’m hungry. So don’t start talking about a committed relationship. Friends with benefits is all I am looking for.

But You keep talking like this? I’ll un-friend You. I’ll hit the “Unlike” button. That quick. Just you watch.

“You don’t need this world’s food. Be nourished by Me! I Am the source of Life! Unless you worship Me, you will perish!”

Um, really? Aren’t you just a carpenter’s son? I’ll accept you as my personal Baker, but not my personal Savior and Lord. No way. No how.

I’m outta here. I’ll not let this Man be King of me!

Along with just about everybody else. The synagogue empties and a vagabond tumbleweed blows by a small handful of wide-eyed would-be followers huddled in a shadowy corner. A couple of them, too, seem to be contemplating the door.

Jesus eyes them up and down. This is what you signed up for, boys. Are you still with Me?

“Will you also go away?”

He looks them each in the eye, one by one, like a judge polling a jury, waiting for their answer.

They needn’t worry.

The Union won’t dissolve no matter how many left. His flag would lose no stars. My Kingdom is yeast running through the batch of dough, he said. This minor setback only signals the certain triumph to come. There will be many more who will fall away on account of Me…

“Will you?”

So I lost a few…we’ll rebuild…as a matter of fact, there’s a woman who is about to be stoned for adultery in Jerusalem. I think I’ll start with her…

He turns. and with an enigmatic smile, calls over His shoulder:

So, boys: You comin’? Or what?

No, a good look.

What you see right now is not exactly what you’ll see 30 days from now.

They say your skin sheds and regenerates every month. Off with the old, and papa’s got a brand new bag! If you’re keeping score at home, that’s about 3 billion skin cells that wave a white flag each and every day. Why does this happen? Glad you asked. Your skin, the largest organ of your body, is also the first line of defense against the body’s enemies: dehydration, infection, injuries, air quality, and temperature extremes. Gotta keep it pristine. Durable. Resilient.

Oh, and your skin constitutes about 20% of your full body’s weight, so, technically, you lose a fifth of your mass each and every month. Before you reward yourself with that extra scoop of rocky road, remember you also put it right back on.

Sorry.

Followers of Jesus also shed and regenerate every day. I like to read Watchman Nee and Oswald Chambers and Paul because they inform me that life in the Spirit is about subtraction. The crucified self. I also thumb through Guyon and Spurgeon and Paul because they bring out the renewing power of Christ in me. So I thought I might sate your palate with a menu that is rich in vitamins and minerals to get us ready for what awaits outside that door in the mean streets of life today.

The following items are more than tools for daily renewal. They are organic, when utilized in the grace of God, to filter, expel and rebuild. They are fuel. They enable us to shed unwanted pounds and take on muscle and bulk. These, then, become the first line of defense against laziness, flabbiness and gluttony, whilst taking up the offensive against the dark rule of the empire. Yeah, it’s that big!

So before we hit the floor or the door, it may behoove us to take our breakfast in bed.

• Early will I seek You; my soul thirsts for You…(Psa 63:1)

• In the morning my prayer comes before You…(Psa 88:13)

• Morning by morning, O Lord, You hear my voice; morning by morning I lay my requests before You and wait in expectation…(Psa 5:3)

Breakfast, it would seem, is the most important meal of the day for God-warriors too . Regardless of time or place, our day should be shaped by the good grace this diet brings. It’s guaranteed to get you, uh, bikini-ready, spiritually speaking. It’ll fine-tune those abs. Flatten ‘em out. Promise.

Start your day, end your day, bookend your day, or fill your day (as the case may be) with these disciplines of grace:

1. A TEACHABLE HEART – come before the Lord with an “amen” in your heart; tell Him “Lord, whatever it is You show me, I will do it.” Open every crack and crevice, corner and closet to His gaze. Come open, ready, repentant, worshipful. Lord, I want a heart that is reachable, a mind that is teachable and a faith that is unimpeachable!
2. THE BIBLE – The Psalmist promises “the entrance of Your Word gives light” (Psa 119:130); it opens up blocked corridors and fills the house with the Presence and fragrance of Jesus who is the Christ, for the Scriptures testify to Him (Jn 5:39). While reading plans are helpful, don’t try to read to accomplish a goal, but for illumination. Stay on a verse or passage. Ask His Spirit to breathe on the scripture and give it life for you. Await His marching orders.
3. A JOURNAL – What else are the scriptures but the journals of His servants who wrote as they heard the living, breathing Word? Your journal is the record of your journey with the Shepherd and a pictorial of the places He takes you and where He lays you down in pastures of grace. On my library shelves sits literally thousands of pages of journaling—my prayers, raw expressions of faith and tables of His mercies in my life—my own books of remembrance that shape my life and keep me in the love of God (Jude 21).
4. A HYMNAL – Certainly the Psalms—the hymn book of the Bible—are a great place to sing back to God the attributes He possesses and the marvels of life in Him; an iPod or CD loaded with worship music is greatly beneficial but get yourself an old hymnal. How rich is the devotion of saints in a bygone era and how much we can learn from their own disciplines! The time with God should not be rushed but nourished and cultivated with overtures of love back to Him.
5. AN EXIT STRATEGY – What good is it to stare at yourself in a mirror, have it reveal what must be seen, then move on without dealing with that cowlick or bit of lettuce in your teeth? Do we rise from our session with Jesus, pat His back and say, “Good talk, Lord”? Here is where we put an exclamation point behind our “amen” and seek His grace to live through us. Did He reveal someone of whom we must ask their forgiveness? The first thing we do must be to grab the cell phone and set up a coffee with them. What did we hear Him say? Faith is not only hearing but doing. What is our takeaway? Our benediction is to follow through with our Shepherd’s instructions. Did He remind us we are not condemned but loved? Then all through the day we must confess those things that reflect that.

Did Dad ever want to wring the son’s neck? Ever?

Where was Mom in all this?

What happened six weeks or six months later?

Did the kid suffer a relapse?

Questions.

So…let’s pretend.

Imagine if Father’s Day fell a week following the prodigal son’s return. No, check that. Let’s pretend it occurred about six or seven months later. On that morning, the father—let’s call him Chanan (Hebrew for gracious)—awakens from a dreamless sleep and rubs his eyes so as to roust them from their hours of inertia. It is still dark, but an oil lamp casts a coppery glow inside the master’s bedroom, and he looks at the pleasing, sleeping form of his wife—oh, may as well: Chana. Hannah. Grace.

She stirs slightly and for a moment he only wishes to look at her, not interrupt her slumber, and when her breathing again falls to a soft purr, he smiles. Ah, Chana! How gracious our Yahweh is! The woman I adore is the woman I awaken to each morning…

He persists in this reverie for a few more holy moments before something draws his eyes past her to the tapestried fold in the door. Just over the delicate slope of Chana’s hip he sees the corner of a small parchment partially slid beneath the curtain. His brow plunges in puzzlement so he quietly rises from the bed and pads over to the door and stoops to retrieve the paper.

As he carefully slides it to himself, he notices a familiar hand has addressed it: “Gracious Father.” A note from Habib (dearly loved). His youngest. Chanan’s eyes mist as he remembers the long nights spent in this very room praying for Habib’s return, crying out to G-d with Chana that He would keep their boy from peril and destruction. The years were long and their inner woundings great, but Elohim proved powerful as always and His providential blessing brought palatial healing and restoration.

Chanan’s eyes welled and spilled over, mirroring his heart’s release. Habib. The little lamb that was lost. Now home. Their lamb once again. The moment was only spoiled by the jealousy of Aaron (lofty, exalted one) who, even to this day sulks and harbors inner hatred. He has gone to his own far country. Chanan sighed and petitioned for Aaron’s “return” once more…

Old, gnarled fingers lifted the parchment to his heart as Chanan walked nearer to the light source for better reading. He sat by the table and unfolded the document. Chana lightly breathed from the bed behind. Outside he could hear some of the animals coming to life and those who tended to them. Dawn was moments away.

Gracious Father,

It was your love that found me where I was—that despicable, hellish place—and with tender bands to my wrists and ankles, you pulled me home. I am a slave to your love and forever choose to remain in your care. I will spend the rest of my life in awe of such grace that never gave up on me, searched for me, located me and has made a home for me. And I will let such grace run its full course in me until I, too, become this grace to others. You and Mother are everything I never knew I wanted, but now that my eyes have been opened, I want naught else.

I thank Eternal G-d that I was delivered from the pit, but I also consider the far country a closed chapter in my book. I know it will come as no surprise to you, Father, but since my return, I have entertained thoughts of going back, but they were only thoughts, praise Yahweh, never actions! Today I declare I could never go back to where I was, for the beauty of where I am is so alluring and permanent.

But, Abba, I also want you to know that I am not only delivered from the pit and done with the far country, but I am determined to choose life always. You never let me finish my little speech back there on the hillside where I fell at your feet. I know now it was grace that stopped me short that day; your grace that finished my best intentions. But you must know, Papa, on this Father’s Day, since you gave me life, to quote beloved David: “I would rather be a doorkeeper in your house than to dwell in tents of wickedness.” I know he was singing about the G-d of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob but I feel the need to declare my intent to serve you, Father, by living out all of my days as your son. This is my promise: your name, your values and your heart will be perpetuated through my life. With you is life. With you always I will remain.

This is the best way I know to thank you, Father. And to honor you. These are not mere words. Watch me. You will not be disappointed.

Happy Father’s Day.

Yeah, that’d be a pretty cool card. Parents of prodigals would die smiling if this scenario ever became their own.

But in the larger story: do you see yourself anywhere in this narrative?

I would say that history is headed somewhere. The thousands of little ways in which you are tempted to believe that hope might actually be a legitimate response to the insanity of the world actually can be trusted. And the Christian story is that a tomb is empty, and a movement has actually begun that has been present in a sense all along in creation. And all those times when your cynicism was at odds with an impulse within you that said that this little thing might be about something bigger—those tiny little slivers may in fact be connected to something really, really big.

Here’s Rob Bell’s ‘retweet’:

The gospel is the counterintuitive, joyous, exuberant news that Jesus has brought the unending, limitless, stunning love of God to even us.

I do not have a Twitter account—I can barely cope on Facebook—but I might tweet something along the lines of:

The gospel is the announcement that the Kingdom of God has been inaugurated in Jesus Christ through His Life, Death, Burial and Resurrection and all who will repent of their own godship, embrace His Lordship and live by the faith of the Son of God will become  bona fide children of God and inherit eternal life.

I would love to add Rob Bell’s words “exuberant” and “joyous” in there too, probably before “eternal life”.  His retweet kind of leaves it open-ended, like a good story without a proper wrap-up. I mean, who wants the Wizard of Oz to end before Dorothy gets back to Kansas, or the Prince never finding Cinderella‘s foot?

How would you tweet it?

Here is an exercise for you aspirants of theology. Search out the significant differences between the sin, sin and sins in the Greek New Testament. I assure you, it has been the glory of God to hide these matters in plain sight. And it has been the glory of the sons of His Kingdom to search them out. What is found in such a search will deliver us from the incomplete gospel that would only save us from our sins…and the Gospel of the Kingdom that Jesus, His disciples and Paul preached that truly brings Life.

Paul said “the sting of the death is the sin” in 1 Corinthians 15:56 (Young’s Literal). The definite article in the original implies a particular sin, the sin of all sins. It is this sin that men embrace all the way to hell. 

When Jesus came to be baptized to fulfill all righteousness, the Baptizer exclaimed, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” He did not say, contrary to how the verse if often misquoted “who takes away the sins of the world.”

Jesus didn’t zero in on sins when He went to the cross—although they, too, were rendered powerless, praise be!—He came to do away with, once and for all, the sin that brings about the death. Sins (plural, without definite article)  are, put simply, berries on the tree of rebellion, but God made provision through Christ to go to the root of mankind’s problem.

Which is…

…the nefarious nature to rebel against the authority of God and His Kingdom which is, ultimately, His reign. THE sin is man taking the throne. It is Adam casting his vote for himself and ruling God out of office. It is the created being casting himself in the lead role and leaving the Creator God on the cutting room floor.

Say what you wish, but the sin is not just evident in an unregenerate world of hell-bound men today, it is also the Great Plague of the professing church, mostly evident in those places on the map where there is little or no persecution, where abundance is greedily scarfed down by portly epicureans, and where the Gospel has been watered down from its original, robust recipe and abridged into the costless, cross-less, insipidly banal concoction it is today.

We need to beat our breasts like the tax collector who said, ”God, be merciful to me the sinner!”  Did you catch that? THE sinner! This is far removed from the bromidic confession we so often hear through the so-called “Sinner’s Prayer”:

“Dear God, please forgive me for my sins and make me Your Child, and take me to heaven when I die. In Jesus’ Name, amen.” 

Short, sweet and not too deep. That’s the contrast to what Biblical salvation offers through the Gospel of the Kingdom. This modern, watered-down version doesn’t allow for King Jesus to mount the Throne and for man to be dethroned. It is little more than a help-me-stop-doing-the-things-that-will-send-me-to-hell-Lord, because it does not let the axe fall to the root of the tree.  It replaces the Gospel of the Reign with a Gospel of Heaven.

This is why we have such a hard time with the teachings of Jesus and even explain them away with some devilishly dispensational doctrine. We cannot accept the Sermon on the Mount as anything more than principles to be followed, rather than what the Life really looks like. We say it’s not for us but only for the Jewish audience to which it was addressed and what will only resurface in the Millennial Kingdom. And so we opt out also on “forsaking all” and “denying self” or “laying not up in store” along with “turning the other cheek” and “forgive lest you be unforgiven.”

We preach against drunkenness (and we should), against lust and sexual sins (and we should), and against witchcraft, murder and sedition—check, check, and check—but until the sin of man-as-his-own-god is dealt with, even those who call themselves disciples will become THE sons of perdition.

Church as usual, a powerless, Cross-less entity is a mass of people who have gotten some berries knocked off their bushes, but the bushes still stand. The living, breathing Gospel that is the power of God unto—unto, mind you—salvation (Romans 1:16), mightily knocks the tree over, pulverizes it and cremates it in the holy fire of God.

Those who believe UNTO salvation are not a cleaned-up bunch of Adamites, reformed from our old ways, getting by the best we can until Christ takes us to heaven, but are grafted into the Tree of Life, a heavenly race of people who only get that way by going “from faith to faith” (Romans 1:17), believing and submitting to His reign all our lives. In the roll call of faith seen in Hebrews 11, don’t scurry past one of the most important verses in the entire context of that chapter:

“These all died in faith(fulness)…” (Hebrews 11:13)

 The writer goes on to use three participles that quantified their life of faith (by the way, in Greek, the words faith and belief are the same): “having seen”, “having welcomed” and “having confessed” that they were not of this earth, but of another realm. This is the Church Christ is building. Living stones who live by persistent faith, people of THE Realm.

THE sin has met its match. It’s match is Jesus who is THE Christ. Are you submitted to Him? Is He your King? Many say with their lives, “We will not have this Man rule over us!” Even if they confess with their lips they accept Him, one sad day Jesus will confess to them,

“I never knew you, depart from Me, you who insist on governing yourselves.”
(Matthew 7:23, my paraphrase)

Can He actually say that to church members? And not just the churchy, but people who gave their lives for the work of the church? How, in God’s Name, can that be?

Because they would not “hear and do” but rather PRESUMED and BRAGGED. They followed their own initiative rather than living by faith which, in its biblical definition, is hearing God and obeying Him. These were products of THE sin, pure and simple, not those who, by faith, would inherit the kingdom.

“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man
who built his house on the rock.” 
(Matthew 7:24)

“Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and not do what I tell you?
“Everyone who comes to me and hears my words and does them, I will show you what he is like:
“he is like a man building a house, who dug deep and laid the foundation on the rock. And when a flood arose, the stream broke against that house and could not shake it, because it had been well built.”
(Luke 6:46-48)

Jesus said, “I will build My Church” (Matthew 16:18). His Church is on a Rock that is our confession that He is the Christ, the Messianic King, who reigns in the hearts of those who have repented of, and are constantly repenting of, THE sin.

The Mrs. and I, long before we were, in fact, Mr. and Mrs., once played an innocent little party game at a friend’s apartment when we were in college. The object of the game was for a guy or gal to get the other one to smile by getting up in their space, without ever touching, and saying something like, “if you love me, honey, you’ll smile.” It was the other’s herculean task to keep from smiling. That was the catch. As if that weren’t enough, that person would also have to call upon all their inner reserves to stare ahead, flinty-faced—without even the slightest twitch at the corner of their mouth—and say the words, “You know I love you, honey, but I just can’t smile.”  

Silly? Not hardly. The school had rules against holding hands, so this was golden entertainment, I assure you. 

The beauty of the game was that you could pick any girl in the room—the prettier the better—and get so close in proximity to someone who might never, ever, let you get that close to her under normal circumstances, and milk the moment for all it’s worth! You can easily see where I’m going with this: it really wasn’t in the strategy to get a girl to smile. Not right away, anyway. You wanted to, ummm, play it out. 

Sandy and I weren’t dating each other when we first played the game, but I knew when it was my turn, I would pick her. Sandy was easily the knock-out of the room so I motioned for her to sit in front of me, at perfect eye level. I leaned in, ever so close, my breath the only partition between the lower region of our faces, lips so tantalizingly close, tension mounting. I barely opened my mouth when she absolutely cracked up! 

It was over before it even began. 

I rolled my eyes because I wanted our little game to play out. “C’mon, Sandy…” I groused. She straightened herself and playfully put on an exaggerated frown. “Sorry. Okay,” she said, pulling back her shoulders and adjusting in her seat. An exaggerated frown, then “I’m ready.” And so was I. 

“Saaaaaaannnnnndyyyyy…if you love me, you’ll smiiiiiiiiiiillllllle…”  

My eyes were looking deeply and dreamily into her green-blue speckled irises now, lips so close sparks were almost visible to the naked eye. Close enough to kiss. My heart thumped. A long pause. This time, however, Sandy sat still as a stone, never breaking with that deadpan, almost cold, stare, when finally her lips parted in a dead-straight line and she spoke the scripted words in measured cadence, “I love you…honey…(oooh, almost a smile!)…but…”

 A theatrical pause.

“I.  Just. Can’t. Smile.”  

The next day, I broke up with my girlfriend, asked Sandy out and she and I have been together ever since… 

It occurs to me just now that silly little game should be the commercial for the modern professing church.

Jesus said, “If you love Me, you’ll…keep My commandments.” (John 14:15) It is often said of the western  church that for all its creeds and confessions, there seems to be a vast disconnect between all her beautiful homilies and its testimony in a barely noticing pagan culture. We do pretty well at INforming but not TRANSforming modern culture. IN the world and also, far too sadly, OF the world. 

“We love You, Jesus, but we just can’t (or won’t) obey those commands You’ve left with us.”

“You weren’t really serious about these things, were You?”

Lay not in store for yourselves treasures on earth.

You must say ‘good-bye’ to everything in order to be My disciple.

Deny yourself.

Take up your cross daily.

In order to save your life, lose it. 

Go make disciples.

“No, I don’t expect YOU to do them…I expect to do them…through you. So smile!”

To this church, our Lord asks, “Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord’ and do not do what I say?” (Luke 6:46) So the Spirit comes again and again to this church, coaxing and cajoling, hoping for a sign, a ‘tell’, a flinch, a twitch or a blink. Something. Anything. The church, unmoved, sits behind her stone walls and glazed stained-glass eyes, going through the motions, saying some nice things, yet wholly noncommittal. An outside observer might say with consternation, “Is that a yes? Was that a no? I can’t tell.” 

Of course, our Lord doesn’t have to ask that question. 

The church of the New Testament, she who is being perfected and readied for her Bridegroom Lord, is not enigmatic but emblematic. She has a “yes” in her heart for her Lord. She does not play at love but moves closer, ever closer, as she is pulled into the inner chamber of intimacy with Christ. Whatever He asks, she capitulates gladly. Even when He asks her to smile. 

May it always be said of us: “She obeyed! She smiled! She really does love her Lord!”