Promises and Covenants

Hebrews 11:1, “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see” (NIV, 1984).

Hebrews 11 became one of my favorite passages of Scripture many years ago.  I think I originally liked it because of the amazing and miraculous things that were reported.  As years passed, my reasoning changed.  Now, it’s one of my favorites because the people were so imperfect, but God was still faithful.

This morning, a statement about Sarah struck me in a way it hadn’t before.  There is a certain amount of irony involved.  We can read the same passages time and time again, but there is always something new—endless interpretation, fresh insight, God moving and interacting in relationship with God’s people.  Sarah longed for the impossible, and it came to pass… 

Hebrews 11:11 “… because she considered him faithful who had made the promise” (NIV).

Covenantal grace is interesting.  We’re not forced to participate, but it’s difficult to understand why we would choose not to.  Well…  OK… maybe it’s not that difficult.  It usually requires sacrifice, and it doesn’t often make sense.  Faith, by definition, is not a sure shot.  We could be wrong.

Sarah could have been wrong, too.  If I had to make an intelligent guess, I would say that, at some point, she assumed just that.  It might have been when she gave Hagar to Abraham.  Or maybe it was the part when she laughed in God’s face.  I don’t really know.   But even in the midst of her doubt, she was willing.  She was hopeful.  And God came through.

So here we have Sarah in the ‘hall of faith’—really old and changing dirty diapers.  Oh… Friends… Be careful what you ask for!

Psalm 20:4, “May he give you the desire of your heart and make all your plans succeed” (NIV).

 
L.

Imperfect People

In our Christian Scriptures we have something of a "Hall of Faith," found in Hebrews chapter 11.  If you read my recent post about biblical illiteracy, you will not be surprised to find that the people listed here are the ones of children's Sunday School.  They are the stories we have heard, if we have heard any stories at all.  Granted, we have edited out all the scary parts, but the names may ring a bell.  Having taken just a little bit of time to refresh my memory on the unabridged versions of some of these lives; even though Hebrews has traditionally been among my favorite passages of Scripture, I found myself somewhat distraught, today.  This hall of faith?  This great cloud of witnesses?  They are imperfect people.  And when I say this, I mean they are truly, terribly, unbelievably imperfect people!  There is not a story among the bunch that would inspire me to look at my children and exclaim, "Be like Samson!  Be like David!  Be like Rahab!"  But they're what we have, friends.         

Hebrews 11:1, "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see" (NIV, 1984).

I can roll with that, but what is it about these people that caused them to make the famous list?

"This is what the ancients were commended for..." (2): 

"One who pleased God..." (5), "considered him faithful who had made the promise..." (11), "longing for a better country..." (16), "they were not afraid..." (23), offering, sacrifice, and blessing...  cheating death... obedience and perseverance... "whose weakness was turned to strength..." (23).

And again, "whose weakness was turned to strength..." (23).

Oh. 

If that's the key, I think I can get back on board.  Because I am an imperfect person.  Sometimes I'm even a truly, terribly, unbelievably imperfect person.  Sometimes I can't look at anyone and exclaim, "Be like me!"  But I want to.  I want to, because I want to be so much like Jesus that it makes sense for others to emulate what I'm doing, precisely because it is not me, precisely because it is strength that is not my own flowing from the weakness of which I am so ridiculously familiar.

"The world was not worthy of them..." (38).  The ancients.  Well, no kidding!  Please excuse my moment of sarcasm when I consider just exactly how the world thought it might be worthy of something altogether different - some people not named Sarah or Moses or Jephthah or L.  Not that I'm comparing myself with the fathers and mothers of the faith.  I'm surely not.  But the point is, we're all pretty messed up.

And yet there is hope. 

Hebrews 12:1-3, "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart" (NIV).

Because they're actually not all we have. 

L.

What If I Need to Deconstruct Me

My friend, Sara, posted these words, today: "It is when all of the pain and all of the fear come rushing to the front, it is then that we have to choose to let go. To see what God has planned - we can't be anything, do anything, go anywhere, until we can let go of all the things that we are not. I'm letting God work in my heart today, I am choosing not to give in to all that I am not... because today is a great adventure."

So it's time for Thursday Theology...  you know, that part of the week when (if I remember it's Thursday, at all) I might write about something God is or, more likely, something God is not.  But these words had me thinking more about what I'm not... I'm not sure I've ever deconstructed myself, before...

Psalm 18:1, "I love you, Lord, my strength" (NIV).

I like to be strong.  Even when I'm not strong, I like people to think that I am.  I can be far too independent for anyone's good.  So this very small verse packed an enormous punch as I read it.  It's not as if I didn't already know this, but my strength is actually not my own, at all.  Let's start the deconstruction right there.  I am not strong.  But God is.    

The narrative of how God provided for the Israelites with the manna and the quail is just blowing my mind, today (see Exodus 16:10-22).  Let's be real.  As a planner, I would have been one of those people who gathered too much and ended up with a maggot infested kitchen.  I have a pretty good story about maggots... is anyone surprised?

Several years ago, the second floor of my previous house began to stink.  I mean, the stench was awful, and it just kept getting worse day after day after day.  I was certain that the odor was coming from the bedroom of my two youngest sons.  I was on their case... every single day... to clean their room.  They were little, so of course I helped them.  We went through all the toys, all the drawers, just... everything.  I changed sheets and vacuumed and used more Lysol wipes than anyone should possess.  And the house still stunk!

I finally thought to myself, "Maybe it's the kids' bathroom".  This space was, after all, used by all five children!  I cleaned the bathroom.  I mean, I really cleaned the bathroom.  I cleaned it better than it had ever been cleaned, every inch of it.  And the house still stunk!

Well, I knew it wasn't coming from the master bedroom and bath, but I cleaned those, as well.  Didn't help.

Then, one afternoon as I quickly ran into "the baby's" pristine princess forest nursery to put a couple of toys back where they belonged, I saw them.  In her play kitchen sink, surrounding an old juice cup that was inadvertently forgotten, was an entire colony of maggots.  I gagged.  I screamed for reinforcements to produce more Lysol wipes, immediately.  I gagged again.  A lot.  I am sort of a germaphobe anyway, but this was just too much. 

Later, when I allowed my very little toddler to resume life in her now inhabitable space, when the sippy cup had been thrown away and the maggots were no more, she looked up at me and asked,  "Mommy, where my white worms?"  

Please, just pause for a moment to give this the appropriate, horrifying effect...

MY BABY WAS RAISING MAGGOTS AS PETS!!!

Go ahead and puke.  I did.

So, the Israelites...

They're so cyclical...

OK...  I'm so cyclical...

Over and over again, God provides.  Over and over again, we have just what we need for the moment, and that's enough.  And yet... sometimes in the midst of this we panic, hoarding everything we might need for tomorrow, because... what?  We think maybe God will wake up tomorrow and decide not to provide?  That's so ridiculous!  (Hey, L., that's so ridiculous!)  Sorry, just needed to talk to myself for a moment...

Psalm 18:25-29, "To the faithful you show yourself faithful, to the blameless you show yourself blameless, to the pure you show yourself pure, but to the devious you show yourself shrewd.  You save the humble but bring low those whose eyes are haughty.  You, Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light.  With your help I can advance against a troop, with my God I can scale a wall" (NIV).

God responds to us.  I don't want to get myself into a whole lot of trouble, right now, but God is to us what we ask God to be.  Oh goodness, how I want to be faithful and blameless and pure and humble.  I'm OK with not being able to scale a wall, though.  That would just be ludicrous.  And I don't want to raise maggots, ever again.

 
L.

Way

John 14:1, 4, "Do not let your hearts be troubled.  You believe in God, believe also in me...  You know the way to the place where I am going" (NIV).

The other day, I tossed John 14:1 to a friend who is going through an incredibly difficult time.  This verse has been a source of comfort to me on many occasions.  It still is, but this morning there is a caveat.  The way to the place where Jesus is going?  It's suffering.  And suddenly I'm wondering if I chose the wrong verse.

Please don't misunderstand.  If you read this in context you'll see that Jesus is the way.  Jesus is sending the Holy Spirit to be with us as we follow the way.  There is hope and healing and covenant, and things are going to work out OK.  But Jesus' way is not easy.  It's just not.

Throughout the biblical narrative, faith and fear are juxtaposed. There are some passages that are even confusing at times.  As an example, while reading about the parting of the red sea, we learn that the Israelites put their faith in God because of their fear of God.  I'm just going to say it.  I don't "get" that.  It doesn't make sense.

Over and over again, Scripture instructs us not to fear.  I read somewhere that there are 365 references that say "fear not" or "do not be afraid" or something of the sort.  I have not verified this.  The skeptical side of me thinks it might just be a clever evangelical catchphrase to encourage people to be fearless every day of the year.  Either way, we do know there are many places where we are encouraged to fear not, to fear less, etc.          

Let me be abundantly clear and very real.  For someone who struggles with anxiety, this is no easy task.  There is almost something comforting about knowing that faith and fear can coexist, at least sometimes, because life is scary, and in all of my many imperfections; I would like to believe that faith and I can coexist.  Yeah, that thought was pretty real.  Excellent.  Just what I was going for...

There is a part of me that wants to tie this up neatly, but as I sit here looking for the last line that packs a significant punch to end this post, I can't find it.  I think this might be because life is messy.  It's OK.  We still know the way.  So breathe in... and breathe out... and then do it again...

 
L.

Just Thomas

John 20:29, "...blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed" (NIV).

Sometimes I think we're a little hard on Thomas...  you know... that one disciple who doubted...

I'm not saying that he didn't doubt.  Jesus calls him on the carpet.  But, interestingly, if you go back and read the narrative, Thomas wasn't really any different than anyone else.

In verse 20, when Jesus appears to the other disciples, he shows them his wounds.  It is immediately following this that they are overjoyed, having seen the Lord.  The only real differences for Thomas are that he wasn't there at this appearance, and he's honest enough to say that he'll have to see it to believe it.  I'm not sure his faith in Jesus is any weaker than that of his friends (they, also, saw before they believed).  It's his faith in his friends' words that seems to falter.

I read this quote the other day, and I don't know to whom to attribute it:

"People want you to be honest... until you say something honest they don't like." 

I think this is exactly what happened with Thomas.  He crossed the line.  He said what everybody else was thinking and, in fact, what everyone else acted on.  We can't judge the rest of them too harshly, because their doubt is nuanced, but Thomas...  he put it right out there...

Sometimes I feel like Thomas... 

The doubting?  Sure.  But more than that the words.  The words that, even in a group of people who think and act and feel and believe just like me, put a target on my face, because I'm the one who actually says them... out loud...

From what we can gather, after the ascension Thomas goes on to preach the gospel of Christ in areas of the world where, quite frankly, most of us still don't want to go, today.  He brings Christ to those who have not seen and experiences what it is when they believe.  He embodies what it is to leave everything, to love the less than loveable, to do what he was called to do.  He is eventually martyred.   

And still, we remember him as "doubting Thomas".

I'm going to stop describing him like that, because I don't think there's a whole lot of grace in labeling people based on what they once were in a moment wracked with grief and pain.

So, just Thomas...  Thank you. 

Thank you for being someone who was willing to articulate what so many others didn't dare say.  Thank you for being someone who was willing to recognize your error.  Thank you for being someone who got back up again, someone who did what mattered when it counted, someone whose story contained so many more details than the text could ever hold.

We need examples like that.

 
L.