Michael Kelley's Blog, page 233

The Quantity and the Quality of God’s Provision

The Bible is full of stories of the provision of God. God provides sons, food, deliverance, hope, and money. Take, for example, the story of Elijah and the widow of Zarapheth in 1 Kings 17. God’s prophet announced that because of the idolatry in the land, the Lord would be withholding rain. We read later that it was at least 3 years between the declaration and when the rain started to fall, and during that time, God provided for the needs of Elijah through a widow.

Ironically, though, she didn’t have much to give:

“When he arrived at the city gate, there was a widow woman gathering wood. Elijah called to her and said, ‘Please being me a little water in a cup and let me drink.’ As she went to get it, he called to her and said, ‘Please bring me a piece of bread in your hand.’

But she said, ‘As the Lord your God lives, I don’t have anything baked – only a handful of flour in the jar and a bit of oil in the jug. Just now, I am gathering a couple of sticks in order to go prepare it for myself and my son so we can eat it and die’ ” (1 Kings 17:10-12).

Keep reading the story and you’ll see that Elijah promised her that the flour jar and the oil jug would not run dry until rain finally fell again. So God provided for the prophet, but also for this widow. The quantity of provision was there.

But I put myself in the place of this widow, and I know that for the first few weeks, my heart would overflow with thankfulness and wonder. But then I wonder if I’d get tired of the little bread cakes He had provided.

Notice that the Lord didn’t give her a rack of lamb or a plate of caviar. He provided bread. Plain, old miraculous bread. Day in and day out.

Yawn.

I wonder if Elijah himself got tired of eating food from the mouths of birds.

I wonder if there was anyone on the hillside who didn’t like the bread and the fish Jesus gave to them.

I wonder if there were any Israelites who got tired of the taste of manna (actually I don’t wonder about this one. I know they did.)

I wonder if there was anyone like me, who might see clearly that the Lord has provided in quantity but question His quality. If so, the issue isn’t so much with the power of God; it’s with the love and care of God. See, I not only want God to provide; I want Him to provide in the way I want Him to provide.

And once again, I’m confronted with the fact that at some level, I am convinced that I know what is best for me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be so offended at the quality of God’s provision. Like a child who begs for a snack and then turns his nose up at the carrots put in front of me, I am impressed with God’s power but offended at His wisdom in exercising it.

The real question, then, is whether I believe in both His power and His wisdom – to not only provide, but to provide in the right way.

Uncle Drew Can Play

In this fantastic video, NBA Rookie of the Year Kyrie Irving plays a little ball at the park dressed up as a guy in his sixties. Meet Uncle Drew:

No One “Makes” Jesus Their Lord

Is it possible that our notion of the lordship of Jesus has been influenced by an American commitment to democracy?

That’s a mouthful of a statement, isn’t it? But since we, at least in the country where I’m writing, find ourselves in the midst of an election year, it seems to fit. So think with me for a minute about the nature of elections. In an election, we choose our leadership. We cast ballots, and the winner of those votes becomes the leader. The one that we follow for the next four years.

All political views aside, then, the President of the United States, because he (or she) is elected by the people, serves at the will and pleasure of those people. The people are the boss of the leader, at least in theory.

But to call Jesus “Lord” is much, much different than that.

It’s not so much a choosing as it is a recognition.

When sin entered the world in Genesis 3, God was not deposed as the rightful ruler or the universe. He wasn’t chased away at gunpoint, forced into exile by a band of more powerful mutineers. God has never given up His rule and reign; humans, in our sin, have simply chosen not to recognize it. Becoming a Christian, then, isn’t so much “making” Jesus your Lord as it is recognizing the rightful rule of Jesus over all.

So why does it matter? Isn’t this just a question of semantics? Why take up valuable viral space on an issue like this?

The reason it matters is because recognizing, rather than making, goes to the heart of what it truly means to call Jesus “Lord.” If we are “makers” rather than “recognizers,” what happens when the Lord makes a decision about the course of our lives that doesn’t seem to make sense? That doesn’t fit with our design? That causes us discomfort or pain or difficulty?

If we have “made” Him Lord, then we might well have the same reaction as when the President makes a decision we don’t agree with. We protest. We carry signs. We look forward to the next election, promising ourselves that we can choose someone different next time. And if that’s the case, then I would question:

Who’s really the boss? Is it us, those who “make,” or is it the Lord, the One who is “made”?

Humility : Thinking of Yourself Less

CS Lewis was a quote machine. Here’s one of my favorites:

“Humility is not thinking less of yourself but thinking of yourself less.”

It draws a line in the sand between true humility and self-loathing, for self-loathing is just the other side of the coin of pride. How many times have I slipped an insult to myself – my appearance, abilities, intelligence or whatever – into a conversation with the hope in my heart that someone – anyone – within earshot would come to my defense? That’s not humility. It’s prideful insecurity.

But here’s the problem with taking Lewis’ cue from above: Have you ever tried to think less of yourself? It’s really, really hard. Because you begin to make an effort to think less of yourself, and you inevitably begin to think more about yourself. So you try harder only to find that all your focus is still on you.

Like the self insult, this becomes a perverted cycle of dwelling on you.

Lewis is right, though. True humility is self-forgetfulness. But the only way to truly forget yourself is to have your mind and heart and imagination captured by something greater than yourself.

To this end, I’ve heard Matt Chandler say that no one stands at the rim of the Grand Canyon and reflects on his or her own greatness. It’s because in that moment, no matter how brief it is, your breath catches in your throat. Your heart explodes with wonder. Your imagination is fixated on something that you never dreamed to be possible… and you just look.

If you’re seeking true humility today, the answer is the gospel. It’s not only because in the gospel we find ourselves cut off at the knees by our own sin. It’s because in the gospel we find the Grand Canyon of grace. We stare down the barrel of the wrath of God and are left without excuse. And then, at just the right time, we are clothed in the love of God, and our breath is gone. We stand staring at the cross and the empty tomb. And in that moment, the last thing you can do is think about yourself.

John Piper’s Letter to a Little Girl Wondering About Those Who Haven’t Heard the Gospel

Dear [Sarah],

You asked what happens to people who live far away from the gospel and have never heard about Jesus and die without faith in him.

Here is what I think the Bible teaches.

God always punishes people because of what they know and fail to believe. In other words, no one will be condemned for not believing in Jesus who has never heard of Jesus.

Does that mean that people will be saved and go to heaven if they have never heard of Jesus? No, that is not what God tells us in the Bible.

Read the rest here.

Are You Tired of Getting Things for Me Yet?

A couple of weeks ago, my 7-year-old had some minor but potentially painful surgery. We spent much of the day Wednesday at the children’s hospital before returning home after 8 that evening. Because he was still woozy from the anesthesia, there wasn’t a whole lot for us to do that night: just wake him up a few times, hold his head up while he took his pain medicine, and tuck him back in.

The next morning came and Jana began our regular routine of delivering the other children to school and Mother’s Day Out. I was left with Joshua, alternating between brief times on my computer answering email and writing, building Lego dinosaurs, and refreshing cups of Gatorade. So went the first hour of our time alone together, when Joshua stopped me in my tracks as I was throwing away his Kleenexes and getting another does of pain medicine:

“Daddy, are you tired of getting things for me yet?’

I assured him that I wasn’t. But there was more in my heart to say:

“You are my son. I’ll never get tired of getting things for you. It’s my great joy to provide what you need, and really, even though you don’t like days like this, I actually sort of enjoy them. Not because you’re feeling badly, but because it gives me a chance to bring you things. I delight in doing this for you. Because I love you so very, very much.”

I didn’t say all those things, mainly because as soon as he said his thing, his 7-year-old attention was diverted to something else. But the question stuck with me. And I couldn’t help but wonder if God’s heart ever breaks the way mine just did:

- Are You tired of me asking you how to be a good father yet?

- Are You tired of me asking for wisdom about schools and relationships for my children?

- Are you tired of extending me grace because I’ve lost my temper again?

- Are you tired of me waking up, day after day, and not knowing the right thing to do and needing help?

I suspect His heart does break, and I suspect it breaks for the same reason mine did. It’s not because He’s tired of getting things for me. Not at all. It breaks because there might be a fleeting thought in His child’s mind and heart that He might someday become so.

Fridays Are For One Question

Let’s talk about World Records for a second. The last couple of weeks have been, um, record setting.

This is the world’s new tallest Lego tower unveiled in honor of the toy’s 80th birthday in Seoul. It was constructed over 5 days by 4,000 kids and is made of half a million blocks reaching 105 feet into the sky.

Then there’s James Peterson.

This guy spent 17 hours — beginning at 11a.m. on a Friday and ending at 3a.m. the next day — traveling around various local bars near the University of Akron campus in an attempt to set the world record in fist-pumping.

Yes, fist-pumping. According to him:

“I have set the qualifications for this record and every minute that I do this is a new record … My fist is super-glued together to ensure I maintain perfect fist formation.”

The technique he employed in his endeavor is known as the “Jersey-style,” which involves an elbow roll and circular action, rather than the straightforward fist-pump into the air.

Nice.

So that leads me to believe that there is a potential world record in all of us. So what is it for you? Eating sunflower seeds? Amount of ketchup used? Toe taps?

Today’s question: What world record do you think you have the potential of breaking?

Autistic 6-year-old Plays and Sings “Piano Man”

I’m a little late to the party on this one, but still – this might be my favorite rendition of this song:

(HT: 22 Words)

Taking the Question of “Why” to the Source

It’s easier in moments of pain, when the questions invade your reality, to direct your sorrow, disappointment, and anger at Satan or a broken world or a random occurrence. It’s easier to let the blame lie there, but if we do, we are robbing God of His power and control and cheating ourselves out of fully processing the magnitude of who He is. Some would argue that God causes hardship. Others would say He simply fails to prevent tragedies from occurring. Pragmatically, though, the result is the same – we suffer, and whether God acts or doesn’t act, He still at the bottom of it. That means our true conflict is with God.

If we really want to start down the road of asking “why,” let’s not sell ourselves short of following it all the way to the end. At the end there’s God. He’s the One in control. He’s the only being in the universe that is sovereign. He’s the beginning and the end of all things, including our laments. And that’s probably why we don’t want to follow it all the way to the end because if God is at the end of that trail, then we aren’t just asking why about the cancer. we are asking about the foundations of what we think—what we hope—is true. We are asking about the nature of good and evil. We are wondering about the validity of the love of God. We are pondering the extent of His compassion and wisdom. And in that kind of questioning, the basis of our whole existence is at stake.

That’s why we don’t follow the trial all the way to the end—we’re afraid of what we might find there. So we medicate, dripping spiritual and emotional morphine into ourselves so we don’t have to face the ultimate reality of an uncomfortable conversation with an uncomfortable God.

———-

Excerpt taken from my book, Wednesdays Were Pretty Normal: A Boy, Cancer, and God.

More Pitiable Than Anyone Else

Right in the middle of his great support of the bodily resurrection of Christians, Paul makes an amazing – but curious – statement:

“If we have put our hope in Christ for this life only, we should be pitied more than anyone” (1 Corinthians 15:19).

Interesting, right? In other words, if there nothing more than this life – no new earth, no new body, no raising with Christ – then Christians should be the most pitied of any people. More pitied than the lowest members of the caste system. More pitied than the widow and the orphan. More pitied than the egomaniac millionaire with oodles of dollars but no friends.

Christians should be more pitied than all those.

So… why?

There is an enormous assumption behind Paul’s statement here, one that obliterates the very thought that faithfulness to God would necessarily result in health, wealth, and prosperity. You ready for it? Here it comes:

The Christian life is going to be hard.

Jesus said it: “You will be hated by everyone because of My name” (Matthew 10:22).

Peter agreed: “Dear friends, don’t be surprised when the fiery ordeal comes among you to test you as if something unusual were happening to you” (1 Peter 4:12).

James affirmed: “Consider it a great joy, my brothers, whenever you experience various trials…” (James 1:2).

It’s going to be hard. Don’t be surprised. Expect it. Know that it’s coming, and stand in the midst of the trial. But let’s not stop there, because the three references above are referring to situations of persecution and hardship – things that affect all of us because we live in a world marred by sin. But Christians aren’t the only ones who get cancer. They aren’t the only ones who are in car accidents. They aren’t the only ones who are downsized in their jobs.

So if that’s the only kind of “hard” that afflicts the Christian life, then Christians at most should be just as pitied as every other kind of man.

The fact that takes the assumption to the next level isn’t just that the Christian life is meant to be hard. It’s that as Christians, we are meant to make choices that make our lives hard:

- We are to turn the other cheek when it would be easier to take revenge.

- We are to love those who hate us when it would be easier to malign them behind their backs.

- We are to choose honesty when it would be easier to tell a seemingly insignificant lie.

- We are to work not to build huge bank accounts but to have something to give to those in need.

All these choices make life hard… at least from a temporal perspective.

See how it comes into focus? If there nothing else, no heaven, no new earth, no redemption, then we are to be pitied above all men because Christians are making choices, day in and day out, that make their lives temporarily harder and less comfortable than anyone else.

Pity them if there is nothing else. Pity us if there is nothing else. But here’s the real kicker. Here’s the truth that knocked me in the teeth today:

- Am I making the kind of choices that make my life pitiable if there is no heaven?

- Is my lifestyle ludicrous if there is no resurrection from the dead?

- Do my choices display an absolute confidence that there is indeed more to come?

Weigh your choices against these questions today. I’m weighing mine. And I’m discovering that, if indeed I believe in the resurrection of the dead, that my life is not nearly pitiable enough.