students of jesus

“Everything happens for a reason.” Perhaps you’ve heard that before. Perhaps you’ve said it. I’d like to suggest that there’s a world of difference between “Everything happens for a reason,” and “God gives reason to everything that happens.” The first is Christian superstition; the second declares the glory of God.
photo © 2008 Steve Jurvetson | more info (via: Wylio)
For years my wife was the director of a crisis pregnancy center in our town. She comforted and held women of nearly all ages as they faced unexpected news, or had nowhere to turn when everyone had walked out on them. One of the most memorable moments my wife experienced was when a teenage girl, a Christian, received the news that her pregnancy test was positive. The young girl’s world was undone. She cried in my wife’s arms and asked, “How could God let this happen to me?” There on the couch was not the right moment to chide the girl about the sum of her personal choices. She needed comfort. But during the ensuing months, through Bible studies and parenting classes the young woman learned that the freedoms given to us by the Creator are also accompanied by the results of our choices. God respects us so much that he allows the choices we make to have meaning.
Finally the months came to term and a beautiful new life entered the world. The teenage mother returned to my wife’s office to show off her trophy of new life, a baby fearfully and wonderfully knit by God. This time the excited young mother declared, “You see, everything happens for a reason!” The beginning of her pregnancy had been met with recriminations against God. The birth of her child was met with a joyful ignorance about the gentle ways of the Father.
The idea that God is somehow pulling the levelers behind the screen of life is what I call Christian fatalism: God is all-powerful. His will cannot be denied. Therefore everything that happens must have been part of his plan from the beginning. He was behind everything all along. Isn’t God great?
It’s true: God does manage to draw wonderful outcomes from the foolishness of men. It is also true that the glory of God’s power and wisdom is frequently on display in human affairs in spite of our choices, not because of them. Part of the glory of God is his ability to accomplish his will in the midst of the complexity of a billion human choices. He does not over-rule our lives. He works within them. He is forgiving, patient, and kind. He knows our weaknesses and chooses to partner with us anyway. What some mean for evil, God turns into good. But he is never the author of that evil.
The twin dangers of Christian fatalism are that believers—who ought to be disciples—first come to believe that their sinful choices have been the will of God all along, and second, believers are tempted to believe that whatever happens in life must be ordained by God.
The first danger strips away responsibility for our choices and undermines the call of God to repentance as a way of life. Repentance is not simply the doorway into life with God; it is the hallway as well. The New Testament word for repentance is metanoia, which means simply to change one’s mind, or even better, to re-think our way of life. This rethinking should be an on-going way of life. The Apostle Paul tells us “be transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2). Renewal comes from a continual re-thinking every aspect of life. First God forgives us at the beginning of our relationship, then he teaches us a new way to live.
The second danger of Christian fatalism is that believers accept each event in life as part of God’s foreordained plan. I have watched followers of Jesus embrace tragedy as if it was sent from God. Sickness is a prime example. Many of God’s children embrace sickness as part of God’s dealings in their lives. I have heard some Christians refer to cancer as “my gift from God” because they have learned so much through the ordeal of treatment. The clear revelation of scripture is that God is holy and good. He is the Father of lights, the giver of every good and perfect gift. Testing and failure do not come from him. He is not the source of sickness and disease. It’s true that in our sickness we can experience the grace of God or develop Christian virtues such as long-suffering. But that is something very different from ascribing the source of our illness to the heavenly Father. What earthly parent would infect a child with disease in order to teach character lessons? Why would the perfect heavenly Father do what is unthinkable among us?
Sin and sorrow have been loosed on the earth from the very days of the Garden of Eden. We may at times be subject to them, but our Father has never inflicted them upon us for our good. Christian fatalism lures us into a false expression of God’s sovereignty and separates from his glory. Perhaps we can discover more his greatness by standing with him against the sin and sorrow of our age.

I know a guy who grew up in the kind of Christian home where going to the movies was considered sinful. The lure of forbidden fruit was strong: he longed to go to the movies and see exactly what was so wicked. The only thing that kept him from sneaking away to the theater was his concern about the “Rapture.” What would happen to him if Jesus came back at the exact hour he was inside a movie theater?

Then there was this other guy who was determined to never say “never” to God, because he was sure that God would enforce upon him the one thing he never wanted to do! I suggested that he tell the Almighty that he would never serve God in Hawaii, but my friend was not amused.

In my experience many Christians carry conflicting ideas about God’s heart. With their heads they boldly believe that God is willing to pay any price for the redemption of mankind but with their hearts they cannot believe that God loves them personally. True, God “so loved the world” that he sent his Son to save us all, but loving the world doesn’t mean that God loves me. Or, as one young woman I know put it, “Sure he loves me, but he has to--that’s his job.”

Our theology allows for the love of God. Do our hearts allow it?

The answer does not come easily. Our hearts--each one of us--resist the idea that anyone could love us unconditionally. Married couples can remain together for years and still find themselves driven by he fear of rejection even though their spouse has demonstrated love time and again. Even in healthy, balanced families children have no real grasp of their parent’s love until they themselves become parents. Our insecurities run like subterranean rivers, watering our fears from below even when our surface life is filled with love and acceptance.

No blog will settle this question in one quick reading, but I’d like to point toward a solution.

Jesus knew human nature all too well. He understood the pressures to perform for acceptance, and the fears of rejection. In one amazing passage he both acknowledges our shortcomings as human beings and uses our very faults to assure us of God’s love--God’s personal, one-on-one love for each of us:
"Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him! (Matthew 7: 9 - 11)
In this passage I see and feel the genius of our Lord. Jesus saw the imperfect love of fathers and mothers. It’s something we all have seen. The examples are in front of us every day. We see mothers who lose patience and fathers who are preoccupied. We watch at grocery stores as parents speak sharp words when children don’t deserve a rebuke. If we are parents ourselves know firsthand that the well of devotion runs dry and we have little or nothing left to give. Yet we also know that even in our weakness we would never substitute stones for bread or snakes for fish. We may not always be up to the task, but we will not harm our children. Jesus used our failings to encourage us that a perfect Father can love completely.

Somehow we are tempted to change the equation when it comes to God. We do not see his perfection as a perfection of heart, but only a perfection of holiness. We may address him as “Father” but we have no real certainty the word means the same thing when we are talking about God.

Jesus came not only to save: he came to demonstrate the possibilities of a life-giving relationship with the Father. Religious authorities were scandalized by his intimacy with the Holy God of Abraham. Who would dare call the Creator of the universe “Papa”? The mind-blowing answer in not simply that Jesus would dare to do such a thing, but that he invites us to do the same.

The Apostle Paul understood the bold invitation presented by Jesus. In the soaring beauty of Romans, chapter eight, Paul challenges us to considers the possibilities of a life-giving relationship with Papa. Not simply forgiveness of sin, but daily, joyful interaction with a Father who delights to be with us:
For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, "Abba, Father." The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children. (Romans 8: 15 - 16)
Not God’s children in some legal sense. Not children in some metaphorical image. Really children, and really his. Toward the end of the chapter Paul reminds us that Jesus was the “firstborn” specifically for the reason that God wanted many more children. No servants, but sons and daughters.

We can read these words, think these thoughts, and still jump to the next web page unaffected. It takes the presence of God’s Holy Spirit to break through. The Holy Spirit is with you right now, where you sit and read.

What’s your hurry? Take moment, take a breath, and pray a prayer:

“Spirit of God, will you come here--right now--and bring the heart-knowledge that my Father loves me?”

Here’s an easy topic for a Monday: how can you know for sure if you’ve heard the voice of God? As followers of Jesus we want to follow his directions—go where he wants us to go, and do want he wants us to do. Understanding his direction in our life is a sign of a mature disciple.

I was hanging out with a few friends this morning and we began to discuss the challenges of such worn out phrases like, “hearing God,” or, “moving in faith.” Sometimes God is abundantly clear. Both through the scriptures and the circumstances of life certain aspects of God’s will are very clear. Some are clear every day. It’s God’s will that I should be thankful and praise-filled. It’s God’s will that I should be of a humble, kind and generous heart. It’s God’s will that I should hunger and thirst after him and his kingdom. (NOTE: this is not a throwaway list. The seven things just mentioned are enough for a lifetime!)

There are challenges, however, decisions that involve choosing one thing and not choosing another: What employment does he have for me? Whom should I marry? Should we try to conceive a child? What color outfit should I wear today? From the everyday to the life-changing, we all recognize that some choices involve embracing one direction and choosing to walk away from another path. Both paths could even be “good.” But we must choose.

A second challenge: what about when life makes choices for us? What happens when circumstances and events wash over us like sea waves? Is God the author of every circumstance? Is the Adversary reaching out his hand to steal, kill or destroy? This, too, involves hearing from God. Do I stand against the tide or go with the flow?

Recently a friend of mine faced a decision that would involve a one-year commitment. “How will I know it’s God?” he asked. I suggested he enjoy the ride, and that he would know whether God was “in it” after the year was over. What--is that an unsatisfying answer? Try this one on for size: in the book of Genesis a teenager named Joseph suffered injustice and betrayal at the hands of some of his own bothers. Yet years later (perhaps 15 – 20 years later!) Joseph could say, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good.” (Genesis 50:20)

Are willing to walk with him day-to-day, moment-by-moment? Sure! But sometimes (just sometimes) we must we willing to wait years to figure out his purposes in our lives.

Writing a blog is an exercise in vanity. It presumes that other people take interest in your thoughts or your life. Writing a biographical blog is the height of vanity because it’s “all about me.” I try to avoid the all about me aspect of blogging and concentrate instead on my ideas about following Jesus. But this week I’m on vacation (Perdido Key, Florida) and I left all profundity at home. It’s Thursday evening, though, and time to post so here comes the vain part:

Sometimes people ask me which books have shaped my views on following Jesus in general or discipleship in particular. So from the beach, here’s a list of the most formative books in my life (since you asked!):

The Canon within the Canon: Every follower of Jesus reads the Scripture, but each one of us has a canon within the canon, those books that speak to us consistently. All of the Bible is Spirit-breathed, but the Holy Spirit regularly speaks to me through these books:

• Genesis – for me, every major theme of scripture is introduced in this book. It contains no fewer than six life stories: Adam, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph. No systematic theology here, just a personal God in relationship with real people.
• Isaiah – Sometimes called the fifth gospel because Jesus quotes Isaiah more than any other prophet. Scholars argue over whether this book had one author, two, or even three. When I read Isaiah I hear one voice, majestic and earth-shaking, the voice of Yahweh.
• The Gospels – of course, I’m cheating by lumping them all together, but God came to earth in the person of Jesus Christ. Whenever I don’t know what to read, I choose a gospel. I understand that some people consider the gospels to be the work of the first generation of Jesus’ followers—how they interpreted his life and teaching—but for me the gospels are the divinely preserved record of his teaching.
• I & II Peter – authorship aside (again!), I simply find myself quoting these verses again and again.

God in the Dock, C.S. Lewis—I had been a high-school evangelical for three years when someone handed me this collection of essays. They changed my life, and Lewis became my first teacher. If you have never read C.S. Lewis, you have missed one of God’s great gifts to the church in the last hundred years. God in the Dock is the most formative work of Lewis because it captured my heart and my attention. Thirty-plus years later, Lewis is my constant companion.

The Divine Conspiracy, Dallas Willard—This book put into words things which I knew, but didn’t know that I knew! A Southern Baptist with a PhD in Philosophy who teaches at USC: that ought to catch your attention. Willard cracks open our narrow ideas of “the gospel” and re-introduces evangelicals to “the gospel of the Kingdom of God.” It was the message of John the Baptist, Jesus, and the Apostle Paul. That ought to be good enough for any disciple.

The Return of the Prodigal Son, Henri Nouwen—This book taught me what it meant to reflect upon the scripture. Nouwen is an exegete of the soul. Return of the Prodigal was not the first of his books I read, but it moved me more than any other. It taught me by example how to meditate on the scriptures, and how to place myself into the Biblical narrative.

The Practice of the Presence of God, Brother Lawrence—This little collection of letters and thoughts from a centuries-gone Carmelite brother is disarmingly and dangerously simple. Far from retreating from the world, Brother Lawrence opened up for me the possibility of being with God every moment. It is sacramental in the most universal sense. I discovered the secret of not just a daily life with Him, but life that is available moment-by-moment. All we need to do is “turn.”

The Remains of the Day, Kazuo Ishiguro—The only work of fiction on this vain list. I would be dishonest if I left it off, but no amount of explaining will convey the impact this book had on me. It taught me that a life of selfless service is not enough. We are responsible for who and what we serve. I wept for weeks after reading it, and it changed my life with God for the better. You may read it and think, “that’s it?” but if I ever meet Mr. Ishiguro, I will buy him lunch!

There are plenty of other good authors. Francis Schaeffer, St. Augustine, Gerard Manley Hopkins, J.R.R. Tolkein, G.K. Chesterton, John Milton, Thomas a Kempis, Bill Johnson, A.W. Tozer, William Blake, but time fails any comprehensive list. But this is my list. They have made me who I am.

These books, more than any others, formed my life with God. May I include one observation before we part? Years ago I helped teach a Spiritual Formation class at a nearby university. Our class read Willard’s Renovation of the Heart during the semester. One student, a junior in college, told me that he had never read an entire book, cover-to-cover, before in his life. How could this be? Perhaps it was just this one guy, but I cannot see how one can claim to be a follower of Jesus apart from drinking deep at the well of other believers, and that includes reading books. Not quantity. But may I suggest that you invite the Holy Spirit to be your tutor while you learn at the feet of past masters?

What are your life-changing books? I'll read your comments with great interest.