a gentle word

I want to open with a story, but it’s not mine to tell. It is an intensely personal story for Sandy and I needed to ask her permission before sharing it. She felt it was right and agreed. I’m grateful she did.

One word from your lips will be sweeter to us and more full of music than the harps of angels.
—Charles Spurgeon—

first, a story

During a particularly hard ministry season, Sandy got in her car and drove. She knew where she needed to go but didn’t want to. He’ll just tell me how wrong I am. He’ll quote scripture at me. He’ll tell me to have more faith, she fumed.

I don’t need a Bible verse, I need God to give me a break.

Her car seemed to know where to take her. Next thing my wife knew, she was in the driveway of the very address she didn’t want to see.

Sandy got out of her car and went to the front door and rang the bell. She couldn’t believe she was doing this, but when you’re at the bottom, you’ll risk anything.

The sweet couple who greeted her could see this wasn’t a social call. Sandy bravely fought back tears but it was no use. Tears welled and glistened in her eyes.

“I didn’t want to come,” she told them. “I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t feel I had anywhere else to go.”

Her heart ruptured. Every bottled up emotion was uncorked. No stone got unturned. Nothing in her life was working* and it shamed her to say it out loud to these people.

John and Patti listened quietly. Not once did they interrupt her, but let her disgorge her soul. When it was clear that she was finished, they both reached out and held her hand. There were noticeable tears in both pairs of eyes.

Then John said words that disarmed her. Most gently and tenderly he said,

There’s nothing for you to feel ashamed about, Sandy. Everything that is wrong in your life isn’t your doing. It’s all happening to you and there isn’t a single thing you can change. You have no options. You’re trapped.

John (and Patti) is a pastor, counselor, and friend. They are safe people. Never once did they offer tired rhetoric or warmed-over platitudes. Romans 8:28 didn’t make an appearance (though no less true). Their words said to Sandy’s broken heart, “We see you. We hear you. We feel your sorrow.”

That’s why God sent her there. He had something he wanted her to hear, and the faithful couple who knows us and loves us well were the perfect pair to tell Sandy what was on God’s heart.

a gentle reminder

There are times, as with Sandy, we feel God has abandoned us even if we’re not guilty of sin (see Job). We are “hard pressed on every side” from grievous pressures that don’t care one whit about our capacity to hold our own against them.

Other times, of course, we are the cause of our own pain and need to know God still loves us.

I recently finished both letters to the Corinthians and saw something near the end I’d not noticed before, and I’m very excited to tell you what I found. It’s a very gospel thing.

The Corinthians were a flawed bunch, yes? They were a puffed-up gaggle of rebels, idolaters, and rank adulterers. One could say the city of Corinth was a sewer plant and the church fanned the fumes.

The first letter got written because Paul got word of their antics and needed to address them. There was also a “painful visit” in there. And then he penned a “severe letter” that is lost. We’ll never know what he said in that one.

So I get over to the 7th chapter and am struck dumb by Paul’s heart in spite of all the tough talk. His heart is veritably bursting when he says this:

“We are comforted (and)…refreshed by you.”
2 Corinthians 7:13

And this:

“Our boasting (of you) has proved true.”
2 Corinthians 7:14

Behold, marvel at this curiously gentle stroking:

“I am acting with great boldness toward you; I have great pride in you; I am filled with comfort. In all our affliction, I am overflowing with joy.”
2 Corinthians 7:4

How extraordinary! To have these emotions and encouraging words for the people at Corinth in spite of how he addressed them in the previous chapter(s) is…well, astounding!

This speaks to my heart about the love of Jesus. Yes, he sees the filth and idolatry and unwholesomeness of our souls (and bodies), and yet his heart is “wide open” to us and speaks gentle words in the middle of his (sometimes) tough love.

He doesn’t over-emphasize the bad to the neglect of the good. You are loved, never forget that.

how does Jesus feel about me?

I would like for you to hear your Savior say this to you right now:

“ I rejoice because I have complete confidence in you.”
2 Corinthians 7:16

Okay, I know that’s what Paul said to the saints in that particular church. I don’t have trouble receiving that because I know Paul was “Christ” to them. He ministered from the same heart as Jesus.

Yes, they vacillated and backslid and married wrong and worshiped wrong and treated one another wrongly. And they would fail and fall again,

but the ones who still clung to Christ, even in their weakness and maddeningly misdirected affections, were gently and warmly loved by the Christ who saved them. He never let them go. His heart remained wide open to them.

Beloved, the same gospel goes for you, too!

The Corinthian believers (though not all) repented. For all their unruliness and out-of-jointedness, still, at the end of the day, they walked in repentance.

If you’re feeling the “severe letter” in your life is justified, don’t think you’re being written off by Jesus. Look to him, not your shame. For the unrepentant he’s writing other words not meant for you. Here’s what he’s gently saying to you:

And Jesus [says] to [you], As for myself, neither do I condemn you. Be proceeding and no longer go on sinning.
John 8:11, Wuest Translation, slightly altered by me

If you’re feeling the crushing weight of life “just because” (as in Sandy’s case), I’m praying for a merciful end to your sorrows.

The Holy Spirit’s eloquence gets muddled through my messengering at times, but I do hope you catch the gentleness of his voice. I pray the broken-hearted hear the Savior’s “I see you. I hear you. I feel your sorrow. Don’t be ashamed. I am for you.”

Selah, beloved.

*For Sandy to drop her hands and lose the fight is against everything that is in her. In this particular season, she was bearing the crushing weight of ‘losing’ her son, being responsible to her ministries at the church, fighting for my health, supporting me in my “daily pressure of anxiety” for our church, and holding down a hard-labor, high demanding job for health insurance.

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so i carry my mat

Let me tell you a Jesus story.

Several days later, Jesus returned to Capernaum, and the news quickly spread that he was back in town. Soon there were so many people crowded inside the house to hear him that there was no more room, even outside the door.
While Jesus was preaching the word of God, four men arrived, carrying a paralyzed man. But when they realized that they couldn’t even get near him because of the crowd, they went up on top of the house and tore away the roof above Jesus’ head. And when they had broken through, they lowered the paralyzed man on a stretcher right down in front of him! When Jesus saw the extent of their faith, he said to the paralyzed man, “My son, your sins are now forgiven.”
This offended some of the religious scholars who were present, and they reasoned among themselves, “Who does he think he is to speak this way? This is blasphemy for sure! Only God himself can forgive sins!”
Jesus supernaturally perceived their thoughts and said to them, “Why are you being so skeptical? Which is easier, to say to this paralyzed man, ‘Your sins are now forgiven,’ or, ‘Stand up and walk!’? But to convince you that the Son of Man has been given authority to forgive sins, I say to this man, ‘Stand up, pick up your stretcher, and walk home.’” Immediately the man sprang to his feet in front of everyone and left for home.
When the crowds witnessed this miracle, they were awestruck. They shouted praises to God and said, “We’ve never seen anything like this before!”

Mark 2:1-12
(Passion Translation)

No doubt the same man had heard about the first round of miraculous healings (chapter 1) and may have even hoped someone would get him near the Healer. Now here he is, perhaps again, longing and hoping. The Healer is near.

The house is crowded, though, so how will he ever get close enough to the Man from Heaven? His hopes are flagging and he must be thinking, “I keep missing out. God’s blessings, it seems, are meant for others but not for me. I just can’t seem to find any way…”

“ I can’t get a break. Nothing changes, no matter how many times I lift up a prayer. My number never gets called. I guess this is just my lot.”

The story reminds us when it is our time, Jesus will make a way. It may take uncommon methods, a circuitous route, or a banging on and barging through a door that seems to have you locked out. His Presence will draw you to himself much like the Eye of Sauron drew the One Ring to itself. Only you won’t find a mount of doom waiting, you’ll find a world of mercy.

God may choose to use other ways and means to get you to himself, but only he can lift you. Other means can bring you, only Jesus can save you.

If you’re stuck in the “lying paralyzed on a mat with no hope or help in sight” mode, just remember, as with this paralyzed man, Jesus wants to do an interior work in you first; that is most important to the Savior. You want to “walk,” he wants you to live – free, whole, and forgiven!

What, then, are we to make of the mat? Doesn’t it belong in the incinerator?

Why, oh Jesus, did you tell the healed paralytic to take it with him?

Ah, that’s the beautiful mystery unveiled to those who know the painful holiness of hard surrender. That smelly old, foul mat, the bane of his miserable existence, suddenly became his fragrant testimony!

I have been paralyzed for nearly 40 years but God has done a healing work in me of such magnitude that the miracle of walking would pale in comparison. My wheelchair is my mat and I take it with me everywhere I go to testify to the goodness and graciousness of God.

…Jacob still walked with a limp.

…The apostle Paul bore the brand marks of Jesus in his body.

…Peter lived with the memory of denying his Jesus thrice but became one of Christendom’s greatest preachers.

…Moses carried his grand mistake to his grave but it didn’t define him.

Will I walk again? Absolutely.

I have faith for that.

All in due time, brothers and sisters.

All in due time.

And until then, I carry my mat and give thanks.

Are you depressed?

Have your dreams fallen to dust and left you groveling in sand?

Take your burdens to the Lord; yes, a million times yes.

But also. (Hang with me here.)

Reach out to someone who sits in the Room of Grace with Jesus regularly, and ask them to pray for you.

Let me tell you another Jesus story. This will be quick I promise.

I’ve been facing a situation that has taken the wind out of my sails and many have been praying, and God has heard every petition and has acted accordingly. But my situation has not reversed.

Last week, when the family’s greatest prayer warrior, my precious Aunt Jean (my mom’s sister), set camp in her prayer room, the very next morning there was significant change. The doctors marveled, the outlook is nowhere near as ominous, and a fresh wind of hope has lifted my sails and borne me aloft. The road ahead will still be tricky but the Lord has given me a soft spot in the way. He’s spent considerable time hugging and loving on me by way of his Nearness, intercedings, and answering the prayers of his people who love me.

You have people who love you too. Send them an S.O.S.

Sometimes we carry our mats, and other times someone else will carry it for us.

Oh, and one last thing. After healing the guy and forgiving his sin (not in that order), Jesus told him to “go home.” I have no doubt the guy told everybody his story “on the way home.“ No doubt he testified by waving his mat around!

That’s what is required of us when the Lord intervenes and changes our story: don’t keep it to yourself, don’t hold it inside; in fact, if God has delivered you from previous hardships, text or email or call someone and tell them how Jesus loved on you then.

“All the way home.”

The very act of praise opens doorways into greater miracles, I’m convinced of it.

Wave.

Your.

Mat.

T E S T I F Y.

That’s it for now, beloved.

Until next time.

Selah

can i have your attention, please?

Luke 18 is all about being heard.

First, in Jesus’s signature story-form, we find a widow hanging on to her last thread of hope; unfortunately, her hope is found in a Gentile judge (not a picture of God, btw) who has little time for her. Nevertheless, through persistence, she at last gets a hearing and a judgment…in her favor.

We transition to a true-to-life episode that contrasts two worshipers at the Temple. One is in his customary pew, spouting off all the religious jargon of a prig (C.S. Lewis’s word), while the other won’t dare set a foot inside the narthex lest he be struck by lightning. One expects he will be heard (he is not), and the other only dreams of being heard (he is), at which we find he gets, not a day in court, but a seat at the table.

Next we see playful Jesus bouncing babies on his knee. The disciples lose their bleep and try to whisk the little hooligans off to their mothers. In no uncertain terms, the Lamb of God lets his men know they had best leave well enough alone. In fact, if they resist the bleatings and shovings of little lambs to be under the watchful eye of the Shepherd, they’d find themselves outside the pen.

Widows need justice.

Tax collectors need mercy.

Children need time.

All need Jesus.

And all just want the ear of the King.

As the chapter rolls out, nearing its end, a blind beggar is straining to be heard over the loud din of a gathered mob as the God-Man Jesus passes by. Blind “son of Timothy” (he’s so much an afterthought the poor fellow does not even warrant a name) is not seen and he is not heard – at first. Everyone around him tells the pathetic man to shush as the Holy Man cannot be bothered by someone who is so obviously a wretched sinner. He’s having none of it. The scripture tells us all the bluster just made him “call out even louder.” The man wanted to be heard.

I love the next two words that come next:

“Jesus stopped.” (Luke 18:40)

Let your ears rest on those words and dispel every other noise around you right now.

He stopped.

Earlier, God, as the father in the prodigal story, is seen running. Here, he stops in his tracks.

You have to remember Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem, on mission to do what he came to do. Earlier in this same gospel we learn Jesus “set himself to go to Jerusalem” (Luke 9:51) and Isaiah adds color to this with his face being countenanced like “flint” – so hard and firm and resolute was his bent to go forward to Calvary.

He stopped his march,

his mission,

time,

everything.

In that sacred second all held their breath as Jesus turned his piercing gaze from the road ahead to the tragic figure on the fringe of the crowd. Those lyrical eyes looked past the religious, the zealous, the able-bodied, the excited, the would-be followers, all of the rabble, and found him.

The throng had no choice but to part like the Red Sea as the poor man was brought to the Healer. The exchange took all of forty-five seconds, maybe a minute.

After all, what’s a minute delay when there’s a chance to change a person’s life?

Pilate would wait for him.

Judas would have time enough to plan his dirty deed.

The High Priest could use the extra minute to consider his ways.

Barabbas would be cool with it, considering how his fate would turn.

But the Son of Timothy? This was his only shot, and he was going to be heard.

Something else I love about the story is that it sheds light on the earlier scripture about the widow and her repeated appeals to the “unrighteous judge.” If you wait a tick, you’ll find that Scripture interprets Scripture.

That passage you’re struggling to make light of, keep reading; the hidden will come to light. I have often puzzled over that story until one day I realized God is NOT the judge of that parable. Unfortunately, the caustic judge – to many – is exactly who God is to them: obstinate, uncaring, elusive, aloof, mean-spirited, vindictive. This is not the point of the parable, proven by this moment of mercy for the blind beggar on the road outside Jericho.

He called out more intensely on that roadside. He would be heard. He would not take NO for an answer. *That* is the point of the earlier parable. But rather than nagging, you just up the ante.

The key to being heard, to getting the attention of God, is not verbosity but intensity.

God is not listening for a casual, half-hearted, ritual, repetitive, obligatory prayer, but he will stop in his tracks for a cry from a wounded soul.

In 2009 I prayed again and again like a persistent widow for God to do something for me I couldn’t do for myself. Each and every prayer was important to God, and I know he heard, but was waiting to hear the shrill edge of my desperation. That came weeks later as I was “quiet-timing with God” in my van. I simply but straightforwardly said:

If you don’t, God, it won’t. I don’t want to live another day with this. Oh God, I don’t have the strength to ask for it again. I’m tired. I’m desperate. Please…

Do you ever get the inexplicable sense when something shifts in the atmosphere? That happened to me as soon as my prayer trailed off. I didn’t even want to add an amen. I just left it at the Healer’s feet and crawl into his lap. I called out one more time, and I was heard.

God stopped for me.

I can’t say that I’ve ever heard God audibly, but it came pretty close in the front cab of my van.

I’ve heard you, Scott. I will answer your prayer – you won’t like the way the way I do it, but you will give praise to me in the end. I am with you. Trust me, Scott…

It may not have been these words exactly, but you get the gist. I needn’t tell you that my cry was supernaturally, specifically, and spectacularly answered within a few very dark and grueling months. There were moments I felt abandoned and more than a few when I felt fearful of the outcome, but God won the day and my testimony stands as a ‘miktam’ (Psalm 16): archived in holy writ, penned in 24-carat gold. It is my story and I’m sticking to it.

What are you wanting God to stop and do for you? Sometimes the hardest part of ‘faithing’ is in the last half-hour, when it seems like God isn’t going to come through.

F. B. Meyer offers this counsel:

The lock of prayer sometimes turns hard, and calls for strength of purpose. The kingdom of heaven has to be taken by force. Let us pray so that our prayers may reverberate with repeated blows on the gates of God’s presence chamber.

“Repeated blows.”

Maybe, just maybe, the next blow that falls will stop God in his tracks and break the door down. Keep hammering away with your prayers, beloved. You’ll get his attention. I promise. I’ve got scripture and a testimony that proves it’s so.