Christianity: Powerless, Small and a Little too Sanitised

As we sat in our Good Friday service this morning, I found my eyes drawn to the wooden cross that is placed on the platform at Easter. Quite unexpectedly, I found myself wondering at its dimensions. It suddenly seemed small and a little too sanitised. I found myself wanting it to be made of heavy cross beams, rough cut and less regular, rather than two pieces of neat, clean 6 by 4.

Do we sanitise our faith?

It made me wonder: Do we sanitise our faith? Do we reduce it to meet our experience? We have been disappointed before, so we don’t want to expect too much. Yes, we are happy to hope for eternal life when we die, but we’re not looking for or anticipating much, here...now...today.

A verse that has been prominent in my thoughts the last week or so is from Proverbs 13:12, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick.” I have been reading Dutch Sheets' book “The Power of Hope”, where he discusses the results of living in a place where we feel as though hope has been deferred too long, too often, which include loss of faith and courage. We stop believing for big things, and the things that seem big in our lives grow bigger again, with a life of their own, becoming bigger than God Himself in our perception.

One of the songs we sang this morning is “The Power of the Cross”. At Easter, we celebrate that Jesus overcame the power of death, and yet, we struggle to believe that we, through Him, can overcome the power of our limitations, struggles and sin here and now. It is easier to live small and defeated lives, because, underneath, we believe the adage, “Blessed is he who expecteth nothing, for he shall not be disappointed”.

But this was not what Jesus promised; this is not what He came for, and certainly not what He died for.

When Jesus said that He had come to bring life that we might have it to the fullest, when He said that He had come to give the blind sight, to make the lame walk, to set the captives free, this was far more than just physical (although that would blow most of us away). He came so that we could see the reality of what it means to be sons and daughters of the Most High God, that we could walk, leap and run without being weighed down by our experiences of the past, and that we could live the free and abundant life of knowing we are loved unconditionally, that there is nothing more we have to do.

I don't want a faith that lacks power, and I don't want it for those around me, either.

If we are serious about wanting to make a difference in this world, we cannot afford to continue to accept mediocre, wishy-washy, ‘expect little’ faith. If we are serious about wanting to make a difference in this world, it is time we get things back in proportion, back to the size they should be. 

If the cross (and I mean all that the cross signifies) is central to our faith, then we need to make it real and make it big in all its power and force and beautiful ugliness. It has to match with the reality that death was the last obstacle Jesus overcame to give us abundant life here and now. 

Are you prepared to come to that place where you get real, get down and dirty, and lay it all on the line with God? 

Because it is here, and only here that transformation begins and it is only from here that we connect with the power to transform the world.

For God So Judged the World

What is it about judgement and condemnation that makes them useful tools to bring about positive change? 

Or if they are not, why do so many feel the need to pour them out on the heads of others?

Personally, I have struggled for a number of years as I have read the judgements meted out by many a Christian online about other people; be they other Christians, those of other faiths, or even atheists. I fail to understand how these sorts of evaluations and attitudes marry with the rest of Jesus’ teachings. Even though He mostly ministered to those of His own faith group, He rarely stood in judgement, and then, really only over those who were busy expounding on how much better they were than everyone else.

As I read through the Gospels, the recurring theme I see is one of love, compassion and mercy. I know that I am far from alone when I suggest that if, as Christians, we acted with love, compassion and mercy, if we offered up grace, as it was given to us, we would be a whole lot more attractive to most people on this planet.

So why don’t we?

From my own experience, as I have wondered at times about my desire to speak judgement over others, whether in my heart or to another, I realise that it is mostly about my own sense of inferiority or lack. Usually, it has been about a desire to knock someone down a peg or two because I have felt they have done that to me and/or others. There has been a sense of trying to vindicate or even avenge myself.

Over time, I have gotten better at recognising and dealing with my own insecurities through more productive means than criticism and judgement – let’s face it, we usually don’t really feel better when we drag someone else down with us, anyway! There are a couple of things that stand out.

The first is that no one can make you feel “less than” unless you give them permission.

Why do we give them permission? Usually, it is simply the assessment we have already made of ourselves rising up in agreement with what we are perceiving, even though it might be subconscious. Closely related to this is the issue of fear. We are afraid we don't match up. We are afraid of being found out as a fraud. We are afraid we really are not good enough. We are afraid we are not loveable.

And while there may be a number of ways in which we can get our needs for feeling worthwhile, valued and loveable met, I firmly believe that if other people are our primary source of this, we will always be in danger of reverting back to that place of “less than” and judgement. There will always be times where they “fail” to give as we think we “need”, or our own brokenness means we fail to receive.

In my own journey, I have found the best, most secure and consistent place to find my worth and value has been out of my relationship with God. It is a place I can go back to at any time and get a refill, knowing that He is constant and consistent in His kindness and love for starters. And on those occasions I still feel that prickle of insecurity, a great question to ask Him is to remind me how He feels about me, how He sees me. This leads to the second point. 

We can’t give what we haven’t received. 

And maybe this is why many of us as Christians feel the need to give out judgement. Because this is what we have believed we deserve and receive from God. If we have a sense at any level that all God has for us is judgement, then we will inevitably pass that on to others.

Perhaps another “favourite” verse has been, “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God”. We focus way more on our sinfulness than God’s grace and mercy, and so we fail to receive His grace, His mercy and even His love. Yes, we can give intellectual assent to His love for us, and even quote a multitude of verses about it, but do we know how to receive it, and do we continue to receive it regularly?

And while I would also agree that we need to come to a place of recognising that we often don’t meet the mark, we must be very careful that this is not about condemnation, but about realising that we can’t do it on our own; that  God is so “for us”, and wants to make up the difference, wants to pour Himself into us, so that we can do “all things” – especially to extend that love, compassion, mercy and grace to a world that is in desperate need of as much as it can get.

"For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of."  Luke 6:45

Can't see the trees for the weeds!

Surveying my garden in Spring and early Summer, I am sometimes quite despairing. There is so much to do, and the weeds seem to overtake everything so quickly. My enjoyment of the new leaves on the trees and flowers blooming all around seems to get overtaken by the sense that the garden is so imperfect and needs work.

I thought this was quite a good analogy of how I can tend to live my life. Do I ever quite enjoy things as they are, or is my eye constantly drawn to what is not, or what is not quite right? (In the past, I have had to learn to curb this tendency, as my first response to any written piece was to point out all the spelling mistakes and grammar problems - I could spot them before I had read the page!)

On a similar note, a more recent discussion in our house has been about work related issues, where the response to criticism was a counter of "but you're seeing the glass as half empty". The reply was, "It doesn't matter whether the glass is half full or half empty. If you're offering me poison I still don't want it, and am certainly not giving it to others!"

In our schools, particularly primary schools, there has been a desire to encourage students and not to damage their fragile developing self-confidence. What led to, however, was everything being praised and mistakes left uncorrected. I read an article some time back that talked about the generation that has arisen from this. One of the problems is that there are many who cannot see that they need to work to improve and that they cannot just walk into the job they want because they want it. There is a lack of connection with how they view their abilities and the reality of their abilities.

Another example of this was from years ago in camp ministry. There was a girl who wanted to sing at the end of camp concert. She sang every year (not to mention the fact that she also had singing lessons). However, it was really unpleasant for everyone except her. As leaders, we had quite some discussion about this, wondering whether it was healthy to keep allowing her to live in this lie that she could sing (both her parents and the singing teacher told her how wonderful she was!), balanced with the knowledge that she would be devastated if we didn't allow her to perform. In the end, it was decided to be honest with her in the most loving way we could, because we felt it was an important part of her development.

I am also reminded of the idea that it takes something like eight praises to bring us back to the confidence we had before one criticism. How much responsibility do we need to take for this? And what is the balance?

Finally, though, I realise that the issue here probably has less to do with the balance of praise and criticism, and is more about what we actually base our worth on. As Christians, we like to state that we believe our acceptance and love from God is because we are His creation, and because of Christ's death for us. However, much of our subsequent behaviour seems to point to our value and worth coming from what we do.

You don't need to look far to see what I mean. How much do we give accolades to those who "make a name" out in the world, those who have written best selling books, who head up mega churches, who are prolific song writers or make it onto reality TV as singers and so on. I am reminded of the way in which many a guest preacher has been treated, (like royalty), in larger churches, protected from having to rub shoulders with the general congregation at any level, and at times, even venerated.

In Luke 14 Jesus is eating with some Pharisees and He addresses this very issue in a slightly different context. His setting is observing the way in which people seat themselves at a dinner party, taking the places of honour. The subsequent parables and other teachings show quite clearly those who were to be given the greatest honour - those who start with the least honour, or the "least of these", which would appear to include those who are less able, in poverty, insignificant, unlovely, young, despised and strangers, to name a few.

Returning to where I began, the issue is that my self-judgement can so often reflect more of how I think the world sees me, rather than being based on what God thinks of me. And I am all too aware that if my worth is all about what I do and how I think others perceive me, I will be trapped again in the bondage of continually looking for the next top up, either through my achievements, their accolades, or both. I have found that there is a place where I am loved without having to perform, that I am acceptable, even with morning breath and weeds in my garden, and I am always welcome, if I will just stop and abide a while with Him.

Rest on the Run

We went to see the third Hobbit movie the other night. What a marathon! About two hours into a movie that lasts just shy of two and half hours, I whispered to my husband, "I'm exhausted!" Without really needing to give a spoiler alert, possibly two hours of the movie is devoted to battle scenes. Toward the end of course (and this is a spoiler alert if you couldn't see it coming), just when you think all is sure to be lost and the few that are left have no more energy, the eagles swoop in and save what is left of the day, completely routing the enemy.

Something about this movie struck a chord with me, mainly because I have felt like I am in an ongoing battle on a number of fronts for most of the past year. I have been feeling exceptionally tired. At times I have wondered whether I can continue and sometimes I have wondered what I am even fighting for - does it even make a difference or is the outcome already decided? At the end of the movie, I found myself almost tearfully whispering, "God, send Your eagles, it is time for Your eagles. I need your eagles."

As I reflected on this over the next few days two things came to mind. The first was the words, "The battle belongs to the Lord". This well known verse comes from 1 Samuel 17:47, where David is proclaiming his victory against Goliath before it had happened. Although the context probably suggests this means the victory belongs to God, the perception I saw was that although I may have a role to play in the battle, it is not my battle; it is His. I don't have to take responsibility for the outcome.

The second part of my reflection was regarding how I can find rest and restoration in the midst of my battle-weary state. What does rest look like when you can't afford to let your guard down for a minute? 

I realised that the place of rest is in worship. Our battle song is one of worship of our great God. This reminds me of some of the Old Testament stories, where the people sang as they went to physical battle. As we worship, our eyes turn to God, and we see things from His perspective, particularly who God is and what He is about. This brings us hope and refreshing.

My end point on this reflection was the realisation that we actually have an opportunity to be the eagles. As I thought of verses about eagles in the Bible, I was immediately reminded of the promise from Isaiah 40:31

"they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles, they shall run and not be weary, and they shall walk and not faint." 

It is not something that comes automatically, though. We cannot rouse this strength by our own acts or abilities. It comes from waiting on the Lord. Not just stopping, but waiting in expectation and hope that He will show up and show us the way forward. And I think we must wait as long as it takes, as opposed to getting impatient and going on in our own strength and ways.

Personally, I think I probably need to practice that sort of waiting bit a little more.

Stale Peanuts

What is the weirdest or most inappropriate gift you have ever received?

There was a long standing joke in my family about a "packet of stale peanuts". The source of the joke was one of my brothers’ twenty-first birthday, where he was more than a little peeved to find he had been given a simple pack of peanuts from a relative, and on opening them, find that they weren’t even fresh! And so, it became the standard response to the question of what you may have received for Christmas or a birthday, or even what you might like. “A packet of stale peanuts!”

Last Sunday, we sang “We three kings” at our Christmas production, and as we sang, my mind went back to an observation someone made at some point wondering what possessed this king/wiseman/magi to think that myrhh, a product often associated with the embalming  process, was a gift suitable for an infant. 

“Myrrh is mine: it's bitter perfume

Breaths a life of gathering gloom.

Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding dying,

Sealed in the stone-cold tomb.”

Although that discussion continued by suggesting that there was possibly a prophetic element to this gift, pre-empting Jesus’ death, I am not sure that Mary, with all her “pondering” of these things in her heart, would have appreciated the gesture.

However, it got me thinking about the sort of things God likes to give us. Asides from the “gifts and abilities” He imparts to us, I reflected that there are many other “gifts” that God bestows upon us that, at times we either don’t understand, or even less, appreciate.

I am reminded of a number of people who have prayed for patience and have subsequently noticed an increased opportunity to exercise patience. I wonder if sometimes God gives us the gift of “hard times” or “difficult people”, or even a difficult task He asks us to do that has a similar outcome - to help us grow more like Him. And just as with any other gift we don't really like, we can respond by either rejecting the gift, the giver, or simply by replying to God at some level, “Yeah, nah, but thanks anyway”, because it all seems too hard.

As we approach Christmas, that time where gift giving seems central to our celebrations, perhaps it is an opportunity to reflect on the “gifts” God is offering now, and how He might like us to respond to them. As weird and “ungift-like” they might seem, you never can be quite sure what you need around the next corner!

Whitewash Won't Make Your Backside Smaller!

"Does my backside look big in these jeans?"

"It’s not the jeans!" 

The knife edge men walk when it comes to assessing a woman’s appearance is a well-worn joke. If I tell her the truth that she doesn't look her best, will she be mad because she really likes the outfit/hairdo? If I tell her she looks great will she be mad because she doesn’t really feel good about the said outfit/hairdo, and she doesn't think I am being sincere or honest? Is there actually a correct answer to the question?

And, as a woman, I have to admit that although I hate insincerity or flattery, or even plain placation, sometimes the truth can be just as unpalatable. I just want you to make me feel good, even though it’s not your responsibility and it rarely works anyway. If I am feeling dissatisfied with myself, it really doesn't matter what you say, I will still feel that dissatisfaction. Unfortunately, sometimes we would rather make someone else the scapegoat than take responsibility the change we need to make ourselves.

Reading the book of Ezekiel in the Bible, I was struck that this is not a new problem. In fact, in chapter 13, God is talking to Ezekiel about His frustrations with false prophets, who persist in telling the people what they want to hear instead of speaking the truth (in love, of course!). He says that they keep saying “Peace”, where there is no peace. 

God goes on to tell Ezekiel that they have rebuilt the wall of Jerusalem in a very flimsy fashion and then covered it over with a nice coat of whitewash (or mortar, depending on which version you read), and said, “What a great wall we have, that will keep us safe from any threat that probably won’t come anyway. Doesn’t it look wonderful?!” [My adaptation]. 

I am reminded of a few years back when I was involved with putting together a publication in the form of a magazine. Many people came and said how wonderful and fantastic it looked, and I wondered why I felt frustrated by these comments. After reflection, I realised that the questions I wanted answered were whether it met our aim, whether it would achieve what we wanted it to, was it useful? 

Part of the problem is that we so easily focus on the surface of what we see, and, obviously, are attracted to that which we believe beautiful. However, beauty and attractive looks can cover a multitude of other less desirable traits. In fact, a number of studies have shown that people deemed to look more attractive are perceived as being more trustworthy, more caring, sociable,  intelligent and even more morally upright than the rest of society. I am not sure where the cut-off lies as to who is in and who is out, though! 

Anyway, in His discussion with Ezekiel, God said He was going to send a big storm with torrents of rain, hailstones and violent winds, and then they would see the reality of the “wall”. He said the people would then ask the prophets, “Where is the whitewash you covered it with?” 

We may interpret this as a reflection of the shallowness of the community, that all they cared about was the paintwork. Or perhaps it's one of those cultural anomalies or even simply sarcasm. "Your wall wasn't even good enough to hold up whitewash." Whichever way we read it, the message is clear. You might think you can get away with “doing a whitewash job”, hiding the truth of shoddy work and half-baked schemes, but when the test comes the facts will be out there for everyone to see.

Of course, there are numerous ways we could apply this to material aspects of life, particularly many of the “good looking” but substandard quality goods we buy today. However, as per usual, I find myself questioning the application to my character and behaviour. 

Two questions came to mind.

The first is whether my “wall” of protection will withstand storms? What beliefs do I have (or not have) that are my anchor in difficult times and can they survive bad stuff happening to me? Do I have enough experiences of God’s goodness/love/strength/mercy (for example) to be able to hold onto to that in the middle of circumstances that would seem to scream that He is not good/loving/strong/merciful?

The second was more introspective. Where am I using whitewash to cover up the flimsiness of my walls? An example of this is when I pretend to myself and the world that everything is ok, when it is not, perhaps simply going through the motions in my relationship with God (and others) instead of being real with them. Where are the places in my life that I have built up a façade of strength and wholeness which have weak foundations or little substance?

Getting real and facing truths is often uncomfortable, though, just as it was uncomfortable for the Israelites to admit their wrongdoing and wrong relationship with God and the world. However, living in denial and hiding my truth, continually worrying that I will be found out for a fraud isn’t much fun either. Working through the pain of healing and restoration to ever deeper levels, though, I realise that it is worth it, and I wouldn’t exchange the freedom on the other side for the smallest backside in the world!

When Theology Becomes Idolatry

The theme of idolatry is explicit and relentless in the Old Testament. “There is only one God, worship Him alone” is the repeated refrain. Today, if idolatry is addressed at all in Christian circles, it is usually reduced to pagan or animistic worship or undue materialism, although there is little specificity as to how much materialism is undue!

Concurrently reading Isaiah and a novel recounting pagan beliefs a number of years back brought me to a deeper understanding of the insidious nature of our idolatry today. Although most of us would understand the idea of appeasing the gods and doing things like sacrificing something or someone to make them happy, it is the hidden agenda that is really the problem. Anything I do in order to get any “god/God” to do what I want is idolatry, and possibly it’s closely related neighbour, witchcraft. It is about control. And that is the root of our problem. Rather than allowing God (as the omnipotent, omniscient Creator) to have control over what goes on in and around our lives, we want to tell Him how to do it, and what we want. This is also the basis of the “works”, spoken of in the New Testament, by which we might try to make God love us more, or at least, not smite us.

So where do I get off suggesting that our theology could actually be idolatry?

As I read forums and hear people speak, I struggle at times with the surety of some that they have the “right theology” and further, that anyone who believes differently is condemned and maybe even of the devil. Quite possibly a few, if they have read this far, may already be condemning me in that same way. 

The problem I have, though, is not that I disagree with those beliefs necessarily. It is more that when we think we have arrived and know it all, we are in grave danger of making our personal understanding our god. We can wrap God/god up in a neat box and say “this is what He is like; this is what He likes/doesn’t like; this is how you have to behave/what you have to do to please Him”. And basically, we then condemn anyone who doesn’t agree with us one hundred percent, or has had a different experience of God. And I would suggest that this condemnation comes from ‘liberals’ as much as ‘fundamentalists’.

It is at this point that I am again and again reminded of the Jews in Jesus’ day and how sure they were of what Messiah would look like, what He would do, and how neatly they had packaged their faith. Jesus was not what they were expecting or looking for. In fact He offended many of them precisely because He refused to conform to their theology.

Again, we see this theme through both the Old and New Testaments; God never seems to do the same thing twice. In fact, it has been suggested that Moses lost his opportunity to get to the Promised Land because he second guessed God as doing that same thing again with getting water from the rock (Numbers 20:1-12). Jesus healed a number of blind people and crippled people, but we see Him spitting in mud, forgiving sins and simply touching people to bring that healing. There was no “one size fits all”. I like to think that this is because of our tendency to “formulise” everything: “This is how you do it”.

More than anything, God wants us to have a relationship with Him where we are dependent on Him, where we look to Him in confidence that He knows best, rather than growing in confidence of our own ability to follow a formula. We also tend to neglect the reality that each of us needs our healing and growth to come in a different way, as each of us is unique. Our experiences, good and bad, our personality, our family history, all these go together to bring us to the point we are today. This is so complex that only God could possibly know what is required to bring us to wholeness in Him.

Our desire for expediency, efficacy and orderliness steers us back toward programs and processes. Although these can be helpful and valuable, ultimately they can only be loose packing around our journey or we ascribe them more authority and power than God. It is only God working through these as He chooses that gives them any potential; we must submit them to Him consistently, or we elevate them higher than they deserve.

Doctrine, orthodoxy and dogma all come from the same root. It is about beliefs and about opinions, and as much as we would like to get it “right” in our theology, we are finite and God is not, so at best our theology is restricted or partial. And there is a very fine line between doctrine and dogma and it is often very blurry. In addition, in our desire to be precise and unambiguous, we can lose sight of the limits of our finiteness, and so we discredit that which others see from their different perspective.

This does not mean that we should accept every different understanding without question. We still need to be discerning. However, when we listen to others with one ear and God with the other, I think we might find that they are in tune more often than we realise. And in the end, no doctrine, creed or theology will give us complete understanding of God. This only grows and develops as our relationship with God deepens. The question is whether we will remain open and trusting enough to allow Him to reveal to us those things that challenge and confront us up to the next level of relinquishment or whether we are happy to set up camp where we are comfortable and can remain more or less in control.

“In that twilight zone of...double standard, orthodoxy is really just a word for my doxy. Heterodoxy means everyone else’s doxy.”

Hywel Williams; Let Us All Err and Stray; The Guardian (London, UK); Jul 8, 2003.