Nontraditional Advent: Isaiah 30 - That's okay, God. We've got it covered.

Last year I went out with a few of my friends from school, and one of them mentioned that she had recently been to a church.  She really enjoyed it because the teaching described how God can be whoever we need him to be. That made sense to her, she thought.

Hmm.  What to say?

Debating the essence of God, with the objective of winning an argument, isn't the most effective means of evangelism.  So I needed to open up the conversation carefully.

I can't remember the conversation word for word, but I opined that if God is really God, if he is not just another being like us, then he gets to define himself.  We may misunderstand him, but he does indeed get to say who he actually is.

That made sense to her, and the conversation wandered into new directions as we discussed Abraham and Isaac and Ishmael and reflected on how this great group of friends would soon be splitting off as most of them graduated in the spring.

The thing is, God does get to be God.  My friend doesn't confess to be a Christ follower so these are legitimate questions for her to ask as she explores ideas of faith.

It gets more problematic when those of us who do follow Christ decide to define him according to our own needs and desires instead of by what he says in Scripture.

If you're following this blog, you may have read The Messenger.  God called Isaiah to deliver a message to the people of Israel.  I mentioned that perhaps the people wouldn't be that receptive to the message, and that is certainly the case.

They've got problems.  Neighboring countries are attacking.  They've asked Egypt to help.  And Isaiah's going around telling them that's not going to work.  They need to return to God.  They need to seek him.  And obey him.

Obedience is such a bore.

Essentially, they tell Isaiah (30:10-11):

Enough with your prophecies and your visions already, Old Man.  We don't really want to hear them.  If you can't say something nice, then don't say anything at all.  

Go away.  Leave us alone.  Stop telling us what God says.  We can find better god-voices that that one.  And anyway, we've got it covered.  

Like my friend, like many of us, we don't want to hear what God wants us to hear.  We don't want him to solve our problems if it means we need to change the way we live.  And so we shape the god-voices that make us feel good.  We can find our own solutions and so we don't want to be bothered by what God has to say.

And God says, Sorry. That's not the way it works.

In repentance and rest are your salvation.  

In quietness  and trust are your strength.  

Turn away from your broken ways.  Turn away from the idea that you can solve your own problems.  On your own.  Without me.  Turn to me and rest in my love.  Trust me.  Be still and know that I am God.  And I will take care of you.  (Isaiah 30:13)

And they people respond, "No thanks, God.  Really.  We've got it covered.  Our horses are really fast, and it's not a problem."

But it is a problem.   And the horses aren't quite fast enough, and the people are "left like a flagstaff on a mountaintop."  Basically, they are sitting ducks.  And w'ere not a lot different.

Why is it that we would rather do things our own way?  Find our own solutions?  Why is that we don't want to sit quietly and ask God what he wants us to do?  What he wants to change?

And the faster our horses go, the faster the problems chasing us go.  Until finally we have no more solutions left.  We have nowhere to turn but to God.

And still, "the Lord longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion.  For the Lord is a God of justice.  Blessed are all who wait for him."  (30:18)

And at some point, we realize that no, we don't have it covered, and yes, we do need God.  Not the one that we define according to our own desires, but the God who defines himself.  And Isaiah says, ". . . how gracious he will be when you cry for help.  As soon as he hears, he will answer you" (30:19)

I guess the waiting, the sitting, the listening, the trusting are harder than running as fast as we possibly can.  At least they are for me.

Nontraditional Advent: Isaiah 28 - Do and do, do and do.

I realized a few years ago that I am a rule follower.  Oh sure, there are some rules that I think are absolutely ridiculous, but I follow most of those just because.  And I make up extra rules all the time.  

Rules create boundaries, boundaries create structure, and for people like me, who lack natural structure or self-discipline, that structure creates order in the midst of the chaos of life.  

My lifestyle creates chaos, so a little order in the midst of disorder can be a very good thing.  Rules keep me moving.  They keep me on track.  They make sure I do the things God has asked me to do.  

Last February I committed to blog through the Bible.  Although I hoped someone would read what I wrote, I didn't really know if anyone would.  I needed to discipline myself to write.  I may be too scared/busy to try getting published right now, but at least I can get published on the World Wide Web.  

And so I began writing.  So far, I have 237 posts written in 2010.  When this one is done, I will have 238.  

The discipline has done everything I hoped it would do.  It keeps me on track.  It challenges me to write.  It gives me things that I can actually submit to publishers when I have time/am not too scared.  

It also makes me a little legalistic.  

Like I feel guilty when I don't do what I have committed to do.  Like I've failed.  Or cheated.  

Right now I've read all the way up to Isaiah 42, but I've only blogged up to Isaiah 28, if you count the post I'm writing now.  I feel like I need to get "caught up," and then I remind myself that it's really okay. 

It's not just the blog either.  I always feel like I have to do a little bit more than is required.  In my classes.  At work.  With ministry.  And I'm not good about asking for help.  I think if I just try hard enough, I can do everything.  

 I don't have to be so obsessive.  And yet, I am a little obsessive.  A little legalistic.  

These qualities don't exactly strengthen my spirit.  

They remind me to "buck up" and "keep moving." 

As I read through Isaiah last Sunday morning, I highlighted Isaiah 28:10-13 and 23-24.  

For it is: Do and do, do and do, rule on rule, rule on rule; a little here, a little there.  

At first, I just liked the sheer poetry and rhythm of this verse.  And then, when I thought about it, these words spoke directly to my heart.

Erin, you know in your heart that I am your strength, that I am your joy, that I am the one who works through you.  And yet, you don't ask for help, you forget to ask for wisdom, you forget to rely on me to go before you and show you all you need to know.  You create rules to live by, and while those rules seem rational, I came to free you from rules.  

I came to lead you to a "resting place" (v. 12), so that you can take a break, so that I can fill your spirit with joy, so that I can strengthen you for everything that's coming next.  

Today is a resting day.  I want to get caught up, but writing in the blog is so much more than getting caught up.  At least today it is.  It is a chance to reflect on God's Word and the message of hope in Isaiah, fulfilled through the promise of Jesus arrival.

Isaiah issues a warning to the people of Israel.  You can choose my rest, you can rely on me, or you can choose the rules.  You can continue to do and do, do and do, rule on rule, rule on rule, a little here, a little there--and you will eventually fall backward and hurt yourself.  You will become enslaved by your rules, until you turn to me and then I will free you (v. 13).

And then Isaiah tells this wonderful story about a farmer:

When a farmer plow for planting, does he keep on plowing forever?  Does he keep on breaking up the soil over and over again?  Of course not.  At some point, he plants the seeds, as God instructs him, and then he waits.  For God to grow the plants.

And when the grain grows, the farmer harvests his crop and grinds it to make flour, so he can make bread.  so he can eat.  Even then, he doesn't keep grinding forever.

Trust in the Lord.  He wants to nourish our souls.  He wants to give rest.  He wants to free us from the captivity of following laws.

How much better to turn to him, to find strength in him.

Nontraditional Advent: Isaiah 26 - In that day, we will sing this song . . .

Christmastime celebrates joy to the world, peace on earth, goodwill toward men.
As if that actually exists in the world today.

Seriously, my house is pretty peaceful today.  The tree has presents under it.  My kids are amazing.  We like each other.  We're healthy.  I've finished the semester and paid the bills.  Duane has a job, and I love school and teaching.  Our cars run.  We have great friends.

But tomorrow?
I don't know.

• A friend just got a bad report on her mammogram, and today, as I speak, she is waiting to hear the details.  
• Another friend's son is in Afghanistan.  He was wounded a couple months ago, and although he's fine, it was a reminder that he's in danger every single day, and the news could have been far worse.  
• Another friend's marriage is on the verge of divorce.  They hope it doesn't turn out like that, but their history isn't too great.  

That's just a snapshot of the world I know.  The world is a dangerous place.  Every day people go to bed hungry.  Every day crimes take place.  Murders.  Rapes.  Robberies.  Not everyone feels safe in their homes like I do.  Every day children are molested or beaten.

The birth of Jesus didn't signal peace on earth.  It didn't signal the end of economic or political oppression.  Just because my world is good today doesn't mean that it's not pretty rotten for others.

However, it's a powerful reminder that God loves us.  That he longs for a relationship with us.  That we can trust his goodness toward us.

When I was a little girl, I learned a verse from Isaiah 26:  Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace him whose mind is stayed on these, because he trusteth in thee.  Yeah.  You've got to love the King James.

Sometime later I learned the verse in the NIV, and because I actually read the passage, I read that verse in context:

You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast because they trust in you.   

Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord, the Lord is the Rock eternal.    

He humbles those who dwell on high, he lays the lofty city low; he levels it to the ground and casts it down to the dust.  Feet trample it down--the feet of the oppressed, the footsteps of the poor.   

The path of the righteous is level; you, the Upright One, make the way of the righteous smooth.   

Yes, Lord, walking in the ways of yours, we wait for you.  Your name and renown are the desire of our hearts.  My soul years for you in the night; in the morning my spirit longs for you.

Sometimes, even in times of trouble, when I don't know what's going to happen next, I do keep my mind on Jesus, I do trust him, and he does give me peace.  And sometimes, I panic and get anxious.  I wish I could just trust him all the time.  I wish I could remember to ask for help.

I wish that God's glory and his name were always at the foremost of my thoughts.  My days go much better when I yearn for the Lord's presence at night and when I long for his voice in the morning.

But I'm going to confess.  I don't live like this all the time.  I wished I did, but I don't.
I wish that peace on earth and goodwill among men reigned in our time, but it doesn't.

We live in the tension of now and not yet.
We have the birth of Jesus, his death and resurrection.  We see glimpses the promise of God's kingdom on earth, but we only see as "through a glass darkly."

Today, as I returned to this passage to write on it, I read Isaiah 26:1.  This passage references a song that will be sung "in that day," meaning that the day is not yet.

In the meantime, we walk in faith, waiting, trusting that day will be more than we can ask or even imagine, remembering that Jesus came because God loves us.

• By the way, my friend with the bad report on the mammogram sent me a FB message while I wrote this.  Everything's good, and I'm praising God for the wonderful news.  

Nontraditional Advent: Psalm 84: I would rather write in my blog than write a research paper.

I wonder what it's like to celebrate Christmas and focus on Christmas and family and friends and parties.  Instead, my Christmases, over my adult life, have consisted of end-of-semester finals (1978-1987, 2008-present), production of Christmas musicals (1979-1988), singing or acting in Christmas programs (random years, 1989-1991, random years), planning Christmas services (2003-2007), working for a church where working the services was mandatory (2006-2009).  In addition, we must include Duane's job, which influences our schedule - UPS (1985-2005) and Newbreak (2006-present).

And so, it's no wonder that for years the Christmas season became such a difficult time for me spiritually.

This year we're trying to balance our lives a little more.  I bought most of our gifts online.  I have a couple of parties and get-togethers planned for the weekend.  We even went to December Nights.

I think I'll be a lot more balanced after I finish this paper that I don't want to work on.
I'm surrounded by research, books, printed journal articles, handwritten and typed notes.  I need a plan, and I don't have one.  And the paper's due tonight.

I keep thinking of balance.  Of worship.  Of keeping my eyes on Jesus.  And I just want to cry.  Why is it that writing this paper is so hard?  The research is a joy.  The writing?  Not so much.  I keep feeling like I haven't done enough research, like there is more I need to understand.  My thesis is too broad, but I'm afraid if I narrow my focus I won't have anything significant to say.

Ah.  I just need to finish.

How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord Almighty.  My soul years, even faints, for the courts of the Lord.  My heart and my flesh cry out for the living God.

How lovely it would be to sit with Jesus, to reflect on His Word, to explore meanings and ideas found there.  I feel so much more comfortable with Jesus than I do with academia.  How lovely it will be when I stop striving for perfection, when I can just enjoy the presence of God.

Yes, I do want to sit with my Bible for an hour, but I'm afraid I don't have time.  Shoot.  This is going to be a 15- to 20-page paper, and I have four lines.

The truth is, I would rather do anything than write this paper.  I've picked up the couch in my office.  I found the ear buds I normally use when I sing on the worship team.  I solved a Sudoku puzzle.  I drank three cups of coffee.  I deleted 500 messages from my inbox.  (There are 1500 left so I've got more to eliminate later.)

You can do a lot of stuff in the three hours I've been up.
And finally, I'm just going to sit with Psalm 84 and talk to Jesus and tell him that I'm really struggling.  Maybe he can help me.

Psalm 147: Continued Thoughts on the Inadequacy of My Own Strength

Okay, it's just a little weird that as I typed the title of this blog post I felt compelled to capitalize all the right letters, just like I learned in elementary school.  For those of you who don't remember, you capitalize everything in a title except prepositions and articles.  And incidentally, that rule doesn't hold if you are using APA formatting, which only capitalizes the first word and proper nouns.  Yeah.  These rules are confusing.

I tend to memorize these little rules, and I think I'm right, but sometimes the rules change, and although I'm certain of my own correctness, I'm totally wrong.  At least in certain contexts.

I was closing up my Bible after writing the last blog post, but I started reading Psalm 147, and it fit very nicely with what I just wrote and so I decided to add just a few more words to this line of thought.

God desires our worship, and when we focus on our own strengths, our own abilities, when we trust in ourselves instead of in God, we place ourselves and our own abilities above God.

Essentially this is idolatry.  We tend to make little gods of ourselves, and we worship our own strength instead of God's power.

But God's not impressed with our strength.  Psalm 147 tells us God's "pleasure is not in the strength of the horse."  He doesn't delight "in the legs of a man."

Our strength and our intellect and our abilities don't astound him.  After all, he made us.

No, "the Lord delights in the those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love."

And so we learn to worship him.  To give glory and honor to the One who made us, who "covers the sky with clouds, who supplies the earth with rain and makes grass grow on the hills" (v. 8).  Seriously, it's not like we can make it rain, or even make the grass grow.

How good it is to sing praises to our God.  It's not about the music, or even if we can sing.  It's about praising him.  Thanking him for all he has done.  For all he will do.

Great is the Lord and mighty in power.  His understanding, unlike mine, has no limit.

Lord, help us to see your glory.   

Help us to see your greatness and to understand our dependence on you.  

Nontraditional Advent: Isaiah 17-21 - Trusting in Chariots (or whatever else you have on hand)

I am a puzzle solver.  I rarely get out jigsaw puzzles, which tend to take up space and make a mess.  I prefer Sudoku.  Or Mahjong.  Crossword puzzles are good too, although I don't do them very often and so I'm a little rusty.

Essentially, you have all these little pieces of something that don't make sense, and you examine them and put them together using the clues you've got.  And the more you figure out, the more sense it makes until finally you have a coherent whole.

Ah.  That's a great moment.

I approach writing like that.  I've got multiple ideas, but in order to write something that someone might want to read, I need to piece those ideas together to make sense, to form images and ideas in the imagination of the reader.  Teaching is like that.

Life is like that.  And yes, I tend to approach life like a giant logic problem. I want to analyze each situation and determine the best course to take in order to produce the best results.

Actually, this is a pretty useful skill, and I'm grateful God made me like this.  The problem is that I think and analyze first and talk to God second.  (Sometimes it's not even second.)  God wants me to be completely dependent on him because if I'm trusting in our own abilities, I'm not trusting in his power and might.  Except maybe as a backup.

And although for me it's my analysis and critical thinking skills, but for some people it's something else.  Duane used to trust in his strength and his ability to work harder than anyone else.  Yes, when skinny Duane was a UPS man, he used to carry two 80-pound boxes up to doors.  It took too long to get out the dolly.  And then he blew out both shoulders and had trouble lifting a coffee cup.

God wants us to trust him.  Completely.
He wants us to depend on him and not chariots.

King David sings, "Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God!"

After all, chariots break down and horses get tired, but God is faithful and never grows weary.

Isaiah declares, "Woe to those who go down to Egypt for help, who rely on horses, who trust in the multitude of their chariots and in the great strength of their horsemen, but do not look to the Holy One of Israel, or seek help from the Lord" (Isaiah 31:1).

Why is it that we try to figure things out first, try to push through and do things ourselves first, and then, when we falter, we ask God for help?

Or maybe we succeed, and we start thinking we're really something special.  We learn to rely on our skills, whatever those are, instead of on the Lord.   And God will let be for a while, but ultimately, ultimately, he will assume his rightful place in our lives.

And in that day, that day when the world falls down around us and all our best efforts fail, "men will look to their Maker and turn their eyes to the Holy One of Israel" (Isaiah 17:7).  They won't look to the things they've made, the idols they've created.  They will ask God for help.

And of course this passage speaks to a future date, when all men will turn to God and call on his name after a time of destruction, but I believe it offers a pattern for us today, one that we see elsewhere in Scripture.

Psalm 146 issues a similar warning, "Don't put your trust in princes, in mortal men, who cannot save.  When their spirit departs, they return to the ground; on that very day their plans come to nothing" (v. 4).

You'll be blessed when your help comes from the Lord God, when you hope in him and trust him instead of your own resources.

The Lord made everything and remains faithful.  He upholds the cause of the oppressed and gives food to the hungry.  He sets prisoners free and gives sight to the blind.  He lifts up those who are bowed down and loves the righteous.  He watches over those who feel alienated, who don't belong for one reason or another, and he sustains the fatherless and widows.  (Psalm 146:5-9, paraphrased)

Turn to God.  Trust him.  Depend on him.  

Don't trust in chariots or horses or whatever else you've got on hand.  

Only God can save you.

The Tension - Now and Not Yet

This morning I woke up excited to start working on my paper.  Last night, I hit the research jackpot and found sources that should help me, and today I'm hoping to get an introduction and to lay out the foundation for my thesis.  It's nice to wake with focus, but not every day is like today.

Sometimes I wake up in the morning, and I just don't want to do anything. Sometimes I want to quit school.  Quit writing.  Quit trying to accomplish anything.

Sometimes I'm just tired.

Sometimes I wonder why faith requires so much effort.  Why God doesn't just reveal himself to us so obviously that we can't help but cling to him.  Sometimes everything's so hazy that I have a hard time remembering what it is I believe anyway.

Sometimes seeking God requires everything I've got, and I'm not even sure that's enough.  Do my prayers go past the ceiling?  Outside the walls?  Does God hear me?  Will he answer?

And I do believe.  I do believe God is real.  I do believe Jesus is the light of the world, illuminating our hearts, giving us wisdom and understanding, comforting us as we journey through questions and challenges, frustration, and doubt.

Faith is clinging to what we don't actually see yet.  And so I have faith.  Faith in God's love and his compassion and his faithfulness to us.

I look forward to the day when everything's totally clear, when I really can see God face to face.  For now, I trust.  I learn to walk in faith.  

For now, I'm grateful for momentary clarity of purpose that carries me through moments when I can't remember what's true and what isn't.