Kingdom of God Archives - Page 2 of 2

There’s The Plow

Decisiveness is the fulcrum of true discipleship. Luke says that Jesus “resolutely set his face to go to Jerusalem.” (Luke 9:51) He’s about four months away from Calvary and the language that Luke employs emphatically illustrates our Lord’s decisiveness in seeing His mission through to the end. It’s more about His state of mind and not a geographical change. It has nothing to do with His checking MapQuest or getting a TripTik from Triple A. He knew who He was, what He was called for, and nothing was going to get in His way.

A few verses down, He encounters three would-be disciples. He says to each of them, “Decide!” Me? Or the world? Me? Or your will? Me? Or your level of comfortability? In each case they chose what was behind Door Number Two and left satisfied with that.

He says that a true disciple is one who has set his hand to the plow, or, in Elisha’s case burned the plow (see 1 Kings 19:21). Jesus set His face (“like flint”, Isaiah 50:7) to Jerusalem and we are to set our hand to the plow. Plowing is about harvest, and in the succeeding verses, Jesus sent out the seventy with this pep talk: “Pray that the Lord of the Harvest will send more plowers into the field.” Some plant, some plow, some water…but the Lord gets His beautiful harvest!

Our Lord cannot use scribes (the first guy) who are worried about looking foolish to their rich buddies when they are found sleeping in caves or under bridges “for a carpenter” instead of their large-mortgage house. He cannot use the ‘I’ll catch up with you down the road but right now I have a lot of personal stuff to iron out’ candidates (the second guy). The call is NOW. And there’s the plow! And He will pass over those who waver between two worlds and the Lord knows this world will usually win out (the third guy).

The call is NOW. And there’s the plow.

Who are the harvesters? Who are the ones “pressing into the Kingdom” (Luke 16:16)? They are people who will empty their entire life savings at His feet even though the religious tell them every reason why they shouldn’t. They are people who will walk away from a lucrative career because their life and livelihood is in His hands. People who will drop the nets at their feet, leaving every security behind because they see the Greater Incentive, a Treasure you cannot refuse.

We need to be more decisive than ever in these changing times. Before I finished that last sentence I was interrupted by a call from someone I know who just won over $20,000 in the lottery tonight. Isn’t that ironic? The world will do stuff like that for us—anything to keep us from treasuring Christ. Anything to keep us from pressing in, pressing on or setting our hand to the plow. Tragically, the third certainty of life—after death and taxes—is that twenty grand’ll be gone in a few days, weeks or months.

Then what?

Decisively pressing in means fighting against that twinge that says, “man, I wish that had happened to me.” It means being unimpressed by what the world offers because you know nothing can compare to the richness of knowing about a Greater-than-all Treasure and going after it.

There’s the plow. It may look worn, earthy, scarred and rusty, but it’s Who you set your affection on at the far end of the field that really matters.

Psalm Umpteen Hundred Thousand Thousandth and One

My Father, You reign. You are Victor and Victorious. You sit glorious in the heavenlies over all. Son of God, You sit enthroned at the right Hand of the Father until He makes Your enemies His footstool.

Hallelujah! There is no end to Your Kingdom! Blessing and honor and glory be unto You forever! You have ripped us from the lair of the enemy and set us free. You have made a place at the King’s Table for Your children who turn to You and bow to Your reign.

Thank you, Mighty One, for conquering the devil and his angels and death and the grave…and for finishing the work so that Your Name would be exalted.

There is no one like You, no one. No god is like You and I call You my God! My name is engraved in the palms of Your Hand and You call me by name.

My soul is satisfied, well satisfied, with You, and You Shephered me faithfully while the enemy surrounds me and waits for my fall. But I am held tightly to Your chest. Your grace keeps me from wanting to pull away and walk from Your care. I am secure against Your breast and I want it to be so! This, too, is grace! I never want to wander from You, my Lord, for what is there for me apart from You?

This my soul knows right well! In You is Life and joy evermore. There is a path that seems laden with lasting delights for stubborn, earthly man but it leads to emptiness and despair. Not for me! Oh, no! And not for all those whose delight is ever and only for You.

(Selah)

Though the domain of darkness imposes its strength and will, all the flexing of its muscle is powerless against the Kingdom of my God, Kingdom of Light, Kingdom without end. You broke into the strong man’s fortress, overcame and humiliated him with Your infinite power and released his captives so they might glorify the Great God’s Name throughout eternity as Your trophies of grace.

Praise You! I laud and applaud You!

This is my freedom song and You are its Author. It is my pleasure and honor to sing it back to You with every breath I have—in this world and the next.

Heaven, tune your instruments! Stretch out to receive the praise songs of the ‘captives-no-more’! Lord, receive Your glory! Your people want to raise You with their praises!

All who are redeemed, come before the Lord with your freedom song. Let us move hell to raise howls of anguish with our voices!

Glory, glory, glory to Your Name, O Eternal God! Blessing and honor and glory be unto Your Name forever.

Amen.

A Woodshed Moment

Ah, there you are. I thought you were dead.

So I was thinking all the way through south Georgia yesterday afternoon. Actually, the ghost of my “old man” spooked me a couple times this week. Earlier in the week someone close to me spoke a hard word into my life and my self went into self-defense mode immediately. I wouldn’t even take it to the Lord to see if this was Him. I knew it wasn’t. Couldn’t be. Not from this person. Flames shot from the orbs of my eyes and smoke billowed from flared nostrils. I told my wife about it and promptly opened the screen of my laptop intending to write them the mother of all emails.

“Don’t do it, Scott,” the Holy Spirit warned.

How strange that He looks a lot like Sandy, I thought to myself.

“If you can’t support me, then leave!” I commanded Him (her).

“I’m telling you, you’ll regret it.”

“No I won’t. Now leave me alone!”

Out she walked. I fumed. Pecking out a string of words, I could feel the evil rise up in me. A mirror of sorts materialized and I saw my old self grinning devilishly, egging me on. Oh, he’ll pay, it said. And you will feel so much better. That gave inspiration for another phrase or two and yet another niggling unsettledness prompting me to go “Pac-Man” on them with my backspace key. Y’ever get so mad you don’t know who you’re mad at? That’s the place I was in. Although I never sent the email my mirrored image was dying for me to send, my heart was wrong. And the anger only festered. Yeah, I ‘obeyed’ the Spirit, but there was no life in it. The Lord had me dead to rights and was setting me up.

I suppose that ire was bubbling away inside me still as I came upon the shaved-headed so-and-so in the red car outside of Tifton, Georgia yesterday afternoon. He was in the left lane and traveling slower than Christmas so I flashed him. Immediately I saw his fist go to the air and watched it sprout a middle digit. About this time, Sandy looked up from her book when she heard me snort. Just in time, I add ruefully, to see the middle finger and me hitched to his rear bumper. It was then she looked over at me and gave me the finger, albeit with her stare.

“What are you doing?”

“I want this…this…JERK to get out of the way. Can you believe him?” my voice shrilled, looking for sympathy from my beloved.

Alas, there was none.

“Stop it, Scott!”

“What?!?” I could see immediately it was going to be my issue.

“Slow down, you’re going to get us all killed!”

“All? I think this bozo needs to die.” The words came out like toothpaste from a tube. Too late.

Sandy went back to her book. I sulked. I fumed. God bided His time. No one was speaking, not for the longest time. I’d turn to God in my thoughts with a C’mon, give me a break! Can’t you see how crappy this week has been? And I’m the innocent one in all this, but I could feel Him looking down at whatever He was reading too.

A few hours ago, the Lord summoned me. They were the first words I’d heard Him speak in my direction for some time, so I was glad. What I didn’t know was He had opened the door to a woodshed and invited me in. I was so delighted with the attention I gaited merrily inside, thinking it’s about time. I opened my journal and began pouring out my heart to him, defending myself from the get go, reminding Him I was His man and this must be persecution and all that. Instantly, He went into silent mode again. I wasn’t listening. I was doing all the talking and defending, so He quietly shut the door behind Him and cleared His throat.

I stopped. Looking around, I could tell I didn’t like this room at all. Then I had the strange sensation I’d been here before. Many times. I sat still as a stone, knowing I’d best listen as what I was about to hear was going to be the answer to my cry for so long: Lord, whatever is in me that needs to die, painful as it is, do it. Do me, Lord!

The one thing about God, He doesn’t tap dance very often. Mostly, He gets right to the point.

“You were wrong, Scott.”

“You mean, the other day? Well, I know I was yesterday. But, Lord…”

“You were wrong. I sent My servant to tell you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“If you continue to reject his word, you reject Me.”

He showed me this in the context of 1 Samuel 2:30 (the very end of the passage). The clarity was unmistakable.

“I’m sorry, Lord.”

“Not that easy. Not to Me. To him.”

He told me I was to write this person, humiliating myself in the process, telling him I was wrong, he was right and (gulp) asking his forgiveness. He also told me what to say, no more, no less. But still I found a way to obey God and get an old man ‘dig’ in as well. That should do it, I thought somewhat satisfactorily. I wanted to save a little face at least, to hold onto some measure of dignity. Ah, but that’s the stuff of self.

(There you are, you old codger. I thought you were dead.)

“Take that out,” the Lord said. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Yes, Lord.” And I took it out.

Did it hurt to do it? Oh my, and how. But I could never want to be on the other side of God’s holiness. The woodshed is as far as I want to ever go. Funny thing how it is also such a grace-filled room. There’s some real one-on-one attention in the woodshed, some real heart-to hearts in there.

Even still, I think I’ll steer clear of it for awhile, thank you very much.