Who Is Thankful For You? (a Really Really Brief Sermon Summary)
In Ezra 3 the Israelites have returned to rebuild the Temple, to pour the foundations. It’s been over 50 years. Some are excited, glad to be home; some see only the destruction and rubble.
They all know Psalm 79, a song of captivity and an awaited freedom. A desire to praise YHWH for the rescue that follows their cries to Him. But now in the land they asked to return to not everyone is giving thanks, no matter what the passage says.
This thanksgiving we are in the same state: some of us give thanks to God for His provisions; some feel that God has yet to come through. For every praise given in a church or around the table, there is a pain felt by someone close by.
So the question must be changed: not “what are you thankful for?”, but “who is thankful for you?” Who gives thanks to God for your presence in their lives? Who sees the hands and feet of God at work, rebuilding the temple of their lives, through you?
Here is a great place to start answering that question Isaiah 58:6-14
Wrestling, With Trust (sermon Lite From Yesterday)
Theodicy. Why is there evil in the presence of an all-knowing, all-loving, all powerful God? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why do good things happen to bad people? Why me?
And then we read Matthew 15:21-28 and are confronted with a Jesus who is silent and then insulting in the face of a mother’s pain. Yes, he gives her what she wants in the end, but not before kicking her while she’s down.
What do we do with such a God?
“Wrestling, with trust.” There is a comma in that phrase for a reason. It’s not about wrestling with the abstract of trusting God in difficult times, but wrestling with God and His actions from a starting point of His love for us. Beginning to lash out, question, petition, argue, fight, cry, and pound or fists on the gates of heaven with the proposition “He loves me” held, even tentatively, in mind and heart.
The idea that “Christian stoicism” is stupid: that our lot is not not blindly accept whatever the universe/God throws at us without question, saying “Thy will be done” while swallowing the obvious bitterness. Rejecting the notion that doubt born of fear, pain and real suffering is sign that we are weak in our faith. Allowing others in our community to grieve, share, be frustrated and to ask the hard questions in safety and love, without being judged by their fellow Christians, forgetful of their own dark hours.
We can wrestle with God because He’s a big boy: He can take it. We can “cast our cares upon Him” even when, esp when, those cares are caused by God. We have access to the throne, more so than the widow before the unjust ruler, therefore we will be heard. This does not mean we will get our way. Results may vary:
The Cannanite woman in the passage got her request granted, but so did Jacob, who walked with a limp for the rest of his life after striving with God. Paul’s thorn remained and learned that “power made perfect in weakness” was at hand.
Wrestling, with trust, means we can pray, knowing we are heard and loved. That our cries are not breaking up as they hit a ceiling of celestial glass. They make it through, even when laden with swears, because we are loved.
Do we trust that? Do we trust that God knows what He’s doing, and is willing to lovingly engage us when we ask Him what is going on?
Dear Jepthah, God’s Will In Not A Congressional Bill
You can’t just tack on a rider and think that has anything to do with what God has already purposed. Your stupid vow does not change the vote from the floor of the Throne room. Vote. Singular.
If you really loved your daughter, if you really thought God would demand a life for the broken vow, then why didn’t you take the hit? Stand by your fillabustering convictions and throw yourself on the pyre of divine wrath you feared?
Thankfully, we have all learned from your mistake.
No one ever thinks that what they say on earth must be bound by God in heaven at all times, in all ways, no matter how stupid those words might be. We are far more enlightened. Far more wise.
Revision
A co-worker in CO taught me something through simple word reading.
Revision = “re” + “vision”. To see again. To see anew. To see from a different perspective than previously.
I knew the definition, but the idea contained within the arrangements of syllables wasn’t forefront in my mind. Teaching the concept in essays and poetry became easier after sharing that nugget with my kids. Asking them to see their work again, in a new light, from a different perspective. An concept I will pass on again in a few hours.
Abortion.
Capital punishment.
Evolution.
Gay marriage.
Just War.
Politics.
I wonder how many things there are which require a revision of thinking; how many topics there are which need a set of fresh eyes applied to them by the same hearts; how many divisive conflicts argued from a well intentioned, but limited point of view- limited from both sides?
In creative writing revision comes from the heart of the writer expressing the vision of the inspiration, with sight towards an end product. However, often, very often, that vision changes - the inspiration takes a turn the more the author works with the piece, takes in input from others, or just sits, silently, thinking. The author sees it again, differently. And the pen is opened to new possibilities.