Barney Wiget's Blog, page 52
May 2, 2018
In His Eyes
[image error]
I was stressing out on some stuff the other day. I sat on a park bench to pray and a picture came to mind of what was happening. I claim that Jesus is my “Center,” but rather than looking at him, I was looking past him at the things about which I was tensed.
I guess you could say that I was turning my back on him––my supposed Center––and trying to deal with my difficulties that lurked around my perimeter. Every circle has a center and a circumference. You can probably guess where God and our difficulties belong in this figure. I was bypassing the Center on my way to the circumference.
Being the spiritual giant I am, once I’ve sufficiently run my stressers through all the files in my own mind, I nearly always go back to God for him to sign off on my solutions and help me implement them going forward. That’s not exactly treating him as the Center.
Weird, don’t you think, that we so easily look past him to deal with worries, decisions, doubts, relationship problems, health issues, temptations, personal problems, world problems? I guess we think we’re spiritual because we eventually do return to the Center and ask for help.
It’s a “utilitarian faith” that uses the Lord more than trusts him with our lives. We look to him when we’re in need rather than keeping our eyes fixed on him at all times whether in need or not.
If he’s actually “the Center”––try to visual this––then he must be situated somewhere in between us and the things that cause us to worry or fear. Problem is, instead of looking in his direction we either look past him or worse, turn our backs on him in order to deal with them in our own way in our own strength.
“Perfect peace” is promised to those whose minds are “stayed on” him, that is they stay on him instead of wandering off to find solutions of their own.
I propose that, more than just looking in his general direction, we look right at him, that is, look at him in the face, and better yet, directly in his eyes. Could this is what it means to “seek his face,” where, rather than focus our attention on the challenges that surround us, we turn our gaze toward him and see what’s on his face?
“Look to the Lord and his strength; seek his face always.” Psalm 105:4
Isn’t this the way we must make our decisions, quell our worries, repent of our sins, and love our enemies––by peering into the face of Jesus? It wasn’t until he exchanged looks with Jesus, that Peter was convicted of his betrayal.
You can tell a lot about what a person thinks and their disposition toward you when you look in their eyes. Sometimes words don’t even need to be exchanged. You can see it in their eyes. You know. “Be still and know…”
His pleasure or displeasure, his comfort or conviction––we can see in his eyes. In his gaze we can find everything we need to do or think or say, or cease our doing, thinking, and saying . After all we are the “apple of his eye.”
Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.
You can read more of my own vacillating trust in “The Center” in The Other End of the Dark.
April 30, 2018
“Jobian”
[image error]
If I had my way, everything would fit a predictable pattern and be nailed down with precise definitions. Yet we can’t fit God into our patterns or definitions, and so it takes spiritual maturity to live with the ambiguity and the chaos, the absurdity and the untidiness.
Accepting the ambiguity of God’s ways is a huge part of living by faith—especially when pain and suffering are part of the mix. As Oswald Chambers writes: “On the human side the only thing to do for a man who is up against these deeper problems is to remain kindly agnostic.” (That is, admit you don’t know). I also agree with Anne Lamott’s assessment of a neatly packaged Christianity when she says, “Any snappy explanation of suffering you come up with will be horses**t.”
Job gets an encounter with God instead of an explanation. For my money, I’ll take one encounter over a thousand explanations. I may not wind up with tidy answers to all my queries, but I’ll encounter God. Faith doesn’t mean that I have God all figured out, but that I’m learning to live with him without having him figured out. I can desire answers and even ask for them, but I no longer assume that I deserve them—nor will I presume to demand them.
– Originally published in The Other End of the Dark: A Memoir About Divorce, Cancer, and Things God Does Anyway
April 27, 2018
Jesus Prioritized Rahabs
[image error]
Twisted and confused by their inherent bent toward rebellion, humans are at the same time stamped by God as divine image bearers, his one-off work of art. To focus on one or the other exclusively either demonizes or deifies them. They’re neither demons nor divine, but lost sons and daughters––seldom as bad as they could be, but never enough good to not need a Savior.
Jesus prioritized the Rahabs of his day, the most defective individuals in Israel: the five-time divorcée from Samaria, the Canaanite widow, blind Bartimaeus, Zacchaeus the extortionist, the thankful leper, and the demonized Gadarene to name a few. He gravitated to people who needed him most, ones whose hearts were primed for his intervention. Rahab, a woman of the night and believer in Canaanite idols, was just such a person.
How fortuitous that the two scouts who are reconnoitering the impermeable city of Jericho would come to her house––her house of ill repute. Of all people, God reaches out to her, and she reaches back.
– Originally published in Reaching Rahab: Joining God In His Quest For Friends
April 25, 2018
Acquiring A Quiet Soul (Part 3 of 3)
[image error]
My heart is not proud, O Lord, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me. But I have stilled and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with its mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me. O Israel, put your hope in the Lord both now and forevermore. Psalm 131
HOW COUNTERINTUITIVE that the best pilgrims are those most childlike! But the kingdom we serve is an upside down one, that is from the vantage point of an incorrigibly upside down world.
In Part 1 we talked about the importance of humility and staying out of God’s chair. He’s the only One big enough to fill his throne. Remember that and you’re half way to a Quiet Soul. Then in Part 2 we introduced the similarity between the calm soul and the weaned child who simply chooses his mother for herself and not for what she provides for him. The childlike pilgrim is satisfied with simply being near his/her God. He doesn’t clamor for food on demand. Whether or not she gets her way in her time she is content to commune with her God.
“Contentment,” someone said, “is understanding that if I’m not satisfied with what I have, I will never be satisfied with what I want.”
Please note that the faithful pilgrim has a part to play in the weaning process: “I have stilled and quieted my soul.” When it begins to whimper, we have to shush our soul.
It’s called self-talk. David does it throughout the Psalms:
“Bless the Lord, Oh my soul… Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God… Awake, my soul… Yes, my soul, find rest in God… Praise the Lord, my soul, and forget not all his benefits… Return to your rest, my soul, for the Lord has been good to you…”
In this prayer poem he says in effect:
“Soul, no matter what you’re feeling at the moment, God still loves me… He hasn’t abandoned me… Like a good mother with her young child, he may be letting go in a way in order to help me mature in some ways. So just calm yourself…”
Notice also that a weaned child is very much still “with its mother.” She hasn’t discarded her baby. In fact, he may be right in her arms, happy as can be.
Similarly, if he’s weaning us from a previous method of dispensing nourishment God is just trying to help us grow up. For his own reasons, he remains just as nearby, but in a different way than we’re accustomed to. Mature childlike pilgrims (oxymoronic as it sounds) aren’t addicted to God’s former ways. They’re always willing––to change the metaphor––to drink new wine from new wineskins.
Like the weaned child who wants his mother, not as his own personal milk machine, but for her, the mature and quiet soul sidles up to the heart of the Father just to be near him.
“I’ve cultivated a quiet heart. Like a baby content in its mother’s arms, my soul is a baby content.” (The Message Bible)
The apostle, called “Beloved,” rested on the chest of Jesus not so he would get first dibs on the food. He simply liked being close.
When did you last rest your head on Jesus’ chest not because you wanted something, but just because? Can he hold you, without you wondering what he is up to––what gift he wants to impart? How we’ve forgotten, or never knew to begin with, that he’s the gift. He is our portion.
In conclusion, is your soul inside you noisy and demanding? Admit to him and to yourself that there are many matters too great and things too wonderful for you to concern yourself with. Quiet your whiny soul and put it to rest in the Father’s strong arms.
The Other End of the Dark: A Memoir About Divorce, Cancer, and Things God Does Anyway tells my own journey toward a calmer, quieter soul. If you know “someone” with a noisy soul, consider getting it for them. The profits from the book go to Freedom House.
April 23, 2018
“Plain Old Witnesses”
[image error]
Not everyone is specially gifted for the good news-bearing task. We call those people “evangelists.” I love evangelists. I’m not one, but I love being around them. I’ve known a number of evangelists over the years, those with a God-installed aptitude for attracting people to Jesus. You can’t go anywhere with these flaming friendship-makers without having to peel them away from conversations with everyone they encounter along the way.
The rest of us are gifted in areas other than evangelism, yet we use those gifts to evangelize in other ways. Most of us are just plain old witnesses for Christ.
In some people’s minds evangelism is designed exclusively for extroverts––salespersons-of-the month-types. Which pretty much counts us ordinary people out. But you don’t have to be brave to share your faith. For every one time I share my faith I wimp out at least ten times. I agree with Jim Henderson, “Boldness is overrated.” Even if you identify more with Woody Allen than Jason Bourne and suffer from acute “Evangelism Stress Disorder,” welcome to the land of the ordinary witnesses.
If offering Jesus to people takes great boldness and super faith then just write a check for the next evangelistic event our church is putting on for Christmas and call it a day. No doubt, the cantata will be great and a good thing to invite our friends to, but writing a check and playing Mary (or Joseph as the case may be) is the very least we can do to help them find Jesus.
– Originally published in Reaching Rahab: Joining God In His Quest For Friends
April 20, 2018
Evangelism: Activity or Lifestyle?
[image error]
“Let’s be friends,” says the Creator, “and let’s go out together and make some more friends!”
Now, doesn’t that sound a little more appealing than: “Let’s go evangelize Africa!” or “We’re going out witnessing on Friday night. Everybody come!”?
For one thing, “Go evangelize” sounds more like an activity than a lifestyle. Not to mention it gives the impression that it’s something we do to people rather than for them. If we don’t like it done to us you can take it to the bank that they won’t appreciate it being done to them.
At the same time that God befriends us he invites us into his quest for more friends. He bids us to love people for Jesus. We’re his welcoming committee not so much recruiters for the Church. The similarity between inviting people into friendship and recruiting them for membership is paper-thin.
– Originally published in Reaching Rahab: Joining God In His Quest For Friends
April 18, 2018
Acquiring A Quiet Soul (Part 2 of 3)
[image error]
My heart is not proud, O Lord, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me. But I have stilled and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with its mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me. O Israel, put your hope in the Lord both now and forevermore. Psalm 131
WE BEGAN talking about how Jewish pilgrims used to sing their way up to Zion on feast days. Along with the other fourteen Psalms in this section (120-134) would sing this song on their arduous trek up the mountain to their capital to worship Yahweh.
This song begins with humility as key to any spiritual pilgrimage, including the one we’re on. We can’t very well worship God and try to be God at the same time! We have to stay out of his chair. That is to say, we have to remember who’s in charge, and it’s not us! It’s that insidious thing called “pride” that constantly impedes our way forward into a God-glorifying lifestyle.
After humility comes childlike trust as a prerequisite for pilgrims.
But let us be quick to distinguish childlike from childish. David knew the difference and included it next in his poem.
But I have stilled and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with its mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me.
A child trusts its mother and rests in her loving arms. It’s still. Compare these versions:
“Like a weaned child rests against his mother, my soul is like a weaned child within me…” New American Standard Bible
“As a child lies quietly in its mother’s arms, so my heart is quiet within me…” Good News Translation
“I keep my soul tranquil and quiet like a child in its mother’s arms, as content as a child that has been weaned…” The Jerusalem Bible
“…my soul is a baby content…” The Message
I’m not sure I can say such things about the way I usually relate to the God who can be as “motherly” as he is “fatherly.”
Let’s be honest, acquiring such a humble trusting soul isn’t exactly involuntary. We have to contend for it. Childlike versus childish faith comes at a cost. Note these two translations of the verse that indicate the effort David expended to acquire such a posture:
“I have behaved and quieted myself…” King James Version
“I have composed and quieted my soul…” New American Standard Bible
Sometimes we have to make our soul “behave.” It’s up to us to “compose” it when gets out of control.
This reminds me when my son was playing Little League baseball at ten years old. He was pitching and the game was getting away from him a bit, so the coach called time and went to the mound to calm him down. After he left, Luke struck out the next couple of batters putting his team in a position to finish as winners. On the way home I asked him what the coach said to him. “He told me to not lose my composure.”
“How did you answer him?” I asked.
“No way, Coach, I won’t!”
I asked him if he knew what “composure” meant.
“No idea!” But whatever it was, he wasn’t going to lose it, at least not before game was over.
Some people seem to always have a composed soul, but most of us have to wrestle it into line. We have to “quiet” our soul when it whines and whimpers for its own way like an unweaned baby. We have to “wean” it from its childish and self-indulgent orientation.
A childlike soul has to be “behaved” into submission by its owner, i.e., us. It’s our responsibility to tell our soul to behave, to compose itself, to be quiet!
A baby still on the breast screams at the first twinge of discomfort or hunger. In the same way, unless taught to behave, our soul clamors for what it wants when it wants it in any old way it wants it. This is no way for us to proceed on our pilgrimage, whining all the way up to Zion.
Instead of pilgrims, too many Christians act like tourists, instead of living to serve, they demand to be served. Such believers haven’t been weaned yet. Reaching into Paul’s New Testament metaphor, they still want mother’s milk when they should be chewing on meat.
Like babies who see their mother as a dairy, they relate to the Lord as simply their Provider, but fail to enjoy him as their Portion. Sure, he provides, but more than that, he is The Provision.
Granted, weaning can be arduous. Letting go of the being the center of the universe can be confusing and frustrating. Like babies being weaned we whimper: “You don’t love me anymore! Why are you pushing me away? Am I to starve?”
Though she might not enjoy the process any more than baby does, in order to help it grow up she has to pull it off the breast. She has to deny her child and the child has to suffer being denied. If they don’t, the child will be an overgrown baby sucking on its mother’s breast forever!
God isn’t abandoning his pilgrims in this stage; he’s just changing the way he feeds us. An immature soul is still on the breast and childish. A mature soul is weaned, still, quiet, and childlike.
The Other End of the Dark: A Memoir About Divorce, Cancer, and Things God Does Anyway tells my own journey toward a quieter soul. You might enjoy reading it. The profits from the book go to Freedom House.
April 16, 2018
“I’ve Got A Friend You Should Meet”
[image error]Christianity isn’t a guilt-ridden religion; instead it’s the only effective way to get rid of our guilt. Guilting ourselves into sharing our faith––or into any other spiritual practice for that matter––is not sustainable. Shouldn’t our efforts to influence people toward God be more like inviting them into a cool river on a sweltering summer day?
Working alongside the Maker while he entices people into his embrace should be more of a dance than a dread. Ours is the matchmaker’s mantra: “I’ve got a Friend you should meet…”
– Originally published in Reaching Rahab: Joining God In His Quest For Friends
April 13, 2018
Where The Action Is
[image error]
If we’re “sick” of our domesticated Christianity, maybe it’s because we’re sequestered somewhere in the center instead of living out on the edge where the action is, where our friendship with Jesus is best and our chances of enticing others into his friendship is maximized.
It’s out there on the daring edge where we’re most desperate for him to be close by. It’s there we’re most likely to feel his strong grasp and hear his inviting whisper to bring others onto our reeling adventure.
– Originally published in Reaching Rahab: Joining God In His Quest For Friends
April 9, 2018
Acquiring A Quiet Soul (Part 1 of 3)
[image error]
My heart is not proud, O Lord, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me. But I have stilled and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with its mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me. O Israel, put your hope in the Lord both now and forevermore. Psalm 131
EAVESDROP WITH ME on this rich conversation David has with God. It’s one of a collection of fifteen Psalms that I call “Poems for Pilgrims.” If you look in your Bible you’ll notice the titles of Psalms 120 to 134 are called “Songs of Ascent” or something of that sort. These are special songs every observant Jew sang on their ascent up to Jerusalem every year on their ceremonially required feast days. This song reminded them to be childlike instead of childish or churlish on their pilgrimage.
For us, this particular tiny chorus points way beyond Jewish religious regimen and highlights the indispensable virtues of humility and childlikeness required of pilgrims on our journey toward spiritual maturity.
Of this poem the great Charles Spurgeon said, “This is one of the shortest Psalms to read, but one of the longest to learn.” Evolving from childish to childlike in our faith is not easy, albeit not impossible.
I was an incorrigibly spoiled kid. I acted as though I was the earth’s axis. The world was in the movie in which I starred. I expected to be catered to and through a tantrum until I got what I wanted. It’s taken me over forty years to be willing to play a supportive role. It’s still my movie.
Since my soul has neither been particularly calm or quiet lately I’ve been using these Spirit-inspired words of David for meditation purposes a lot. It’s not that I find surrender difficult, it’s staying surrendered that is problematic for me. Repeating the Psalm and meditating on each part helps reinforce my confidence in God and provides a measure of spiritual sanity that results from coming to him with a “stilled” soul.
It begins with a humility that reminds us that we have a very limited capacity to run the universe.
My heart is not proud, O Lord, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me.
Childlike pilgrims stay out of God’s chair! They’re not so arrogant as to presume to help God run his world.
C.S. Lewis dubbed pride as “The Great Sin.” “There are two kinds of people in the world, the proud who think they’re humble and the humble who think they’re proud.” Everyone has this same weed growing inside that cannibalizes any good in its path. Killing it is difficult and even harder to get it to stay dead.
Read about what it means to be Conceited
It’s arrogant to think we can figure out all of life’s “great matters.” Elsewhere the psalmist confessed, “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.” (Psalm 139:6)
In order to advance toward our goal, serious spiritual pilgrims are relentless in their battle against the spirit of entitlement that says: “I deserve answers to all my questions, to know what’s going on all the time on my pilgrimage. I require explanations for all my difficulties along the way. Everything has to fit inside my previously approved categories. God owes me explanations for the way he goes about things.”
Pride!
I wonder why some people came to Jesus to begin with. Did they come for bread or for the Bread of Life? Do they serve a sovereign God or demand a “servant god”?
Childlike Pilgrims don’t concern themselves with “great matters or things too wonderful for them.” They leave the management of the universe to God. Doing this quiets and calms their soul.
We’ll look at that next time…
In the meantime, I recommend one or both of these books that might help you lean into your spiritual pilgrimage:
The Other End of the Dark: A Memoir About Divorce, Cancer, and Things God Does Anyway
Reaching Rahab: Joining God In His Quest For Friends
