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I was given this verse to ponder over the next several months. Actually to “chew on” and to sit with for the next few months. Thought I’d share it with you as well. It’s rather perfect for where I am right now.
Isaiah 50: 10
Who among you fears the Lord? Who obeys the voice of His Servant? Who walks in darkness and has no light? Let him trust in the name of the Lord and rely upon his God.
And then, verse 11
Look all you who kindle a fire, who encircle yourselves with sparks: Walk in the light of your fire and in the sparks you have kindled. This you shall have from My hand: You shall lie down in torment.
In my current season of life, the temptation is to light as many fires as I can, struggling to gain clarity by my own actions. Trying to light my own path, instead of walking in the darkness and trusting the hand of God to lead me. It’s hard to relinquish control and rest in Him. For me, it often feels impossible.
I’m chewing!
Last night, I read this:
If you take a step out of your comfort zone and try something new in pursuit of your dream, it either will work out, or it won’t. That’s a 50% chance of success. If you do nothing, there’s a 100% chance you won’t succeed in pursuing your dream. (Paraphrased from Quitter by Jon Acuff)
On my way to work today, I heard this:
“Feels like there’s nothing that I can’t try…” (I’m Coming Home: Diddy, featuring Skylar Grey)
I guess my senses are heightened at the moment to the concept of “trying” something new. Still, I do think I’m getting a lot of signals through the airwaves. Including these two.
What I read in Acuff’s book affirmed an ancient truth I’ve known for my entire life of loving sports. “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.” This is just true, true, true.
Meanwhile, the hip hop lyric, which I’ve heard a thousand times, today clearly ran up against another mantra I’ve held dear. For the longest time, I’ve locked in on what the great philosopher and light saber wielder Yoda once told Luke Skywalker: “Do or do not. There is no try.”
So, yes, I know that I’m debating whether to trust in the wisdom of a tiny, green, backward-talking fictional Jedi or go with a single lyric from a hip-hop artist that changes his name like it was a television channel. I’m not arguing that I’m on shaky ground here. But I think there’s some great insight to be had in what P. Puff Daddy, Diddy, Diddy Money, Sean, Sean Puffy Combs, had to say in this song.
It feels like a very careful word choice. Maybe it was just convenient that it rhymed with “put yo hands high” but I think it was intentional. He didn’t say, “Feels like there’s nothing that I can’t DO.” He said “TRY”.
I’m sorry Yoda. I love you man. But as motivational as your call to action is, I think Diddy got it right this time. There’s a space between doing it and not doing it. And it’s called trying it. It’s that moment when you step out in faith and give it a shot. That’s where I’m teetering. Leaning in to try. Still wrestling with what it is I’m supposed to try. Maybe it’s as simple as trying to trust. Guess I’ll see soon enough. Hopefully!
Maverick and Goose said it best. I feel the need…the need…for speed. And for a moment, I thought I was just being impatient and rash. But everywhere I turn, I only hear that I in fact need…speed.
As I’ve reached out to people I trust and poured through scripture, a theme has emerged.
Among the advice I received was the following:
Call upon the Lord *while he is near* (Is 55:6).
If God calls you to jump…jump fast.
Even scripture seemed to scream it. I was turning back to the passage in Luke 9 that so deeply affected me on Sunday. And then I kept reading, until I landed at verse 59. Jesus calls out to a man and says, “Follow me.” The man replies that he first needs to bury his father. Jesus famously responds, “Let the dead bury their own.” Another man said he would follow but first needed to go and bid farewell to those at his house. Jesus responds. “No one, having put his hand to the plow and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.”
That sounds a bit harsh. But the point was clear, and I think that was the goal. God doesn’t really want to hear excuses from me right now. He doesn’t want to hear that I’ll follow, as soon as I get some things in order. That I’ll be right there, just let me straighten some stuff out first. I’m on my way, I just need to…This could go on forever. It’s been going on for three years with me. It never seems like it’s the right time to fully invest.
It’s been a real struggle. Given my current situation, I feel like I should be quickly securing my family’s finances by finding a stable job, and then figure out what this whole ministry thing is about. After all, there are bills to pay. But a part of me feels like that’s just me trying to bury the dead or say goodbye or put things into place so that it’s convenient to follow Him.
My convictions tell me that finding another job like the one I have is taking the easy way out, and that I need to stand my ground and let God work. That I need to act on my calling NOW. But for the life of me, I just don’t see how that is going to work out. How it can possibly work out. How anything can remotely be okay. I mean, I have no concrete direction or plan. I don’t have even a fraction of the faith required.
I only have this undeniable urge to follow. A gravitational pull that won’t let me stand still. The need … for speed.
“Fear is vision without hope.”
– Mark Driscoll
I was reading a powerful piece of fiction this weekend called “The Sense of an Ending” by Julian Barnes. In the following passage, the narrator is examining the effects of time as he looks back on youth. I took it as a deeply insightful symbol for my life, specifically my pursuit of God’s will.
“We thought we were being mature when we were only being safe. We imagined we were being responsible but were only being cowardly. What we called realism turned out to be a way of avoiding things rather than facing them.”
My last post was about fear. I suppose this one is about how I rationalize it. How I cover it up and tell myself it’s not so much that I’m afraid but that I’m just doing “the right thing” and not being irresponsible, spontaneous and rash. How I perpetually postpone God’s requests because I’m not in control of what happens if I follow through.
The narrator closes the passage by saying, “Give us enough time and our best-supported decisions will seem wobbly, our certainties whimsical.” I can surely imagine a future where I look back and say, “Wow, what a flimsy, irrelevant collection of excuses I had for not doing what God called me to do, for not being obedient.”
I was just introduced to a great quote that sums this up rather well. I don’t know where it originated as a phrase, but Nike has used it on billboards. It’s short but brilliant.
“Yesterday, you said tomorrow.”
When I read that for the first time, it was as if God were speaking directly to me.
Ouch. That one hurts.
Last week, our pastor preached on fear. During the sermon, he referenced a famous missionary named John G. Paton who was responsible for bringing the Gospel to the New Hebrides Islands of the South Pacific.
The interesting part of his story is that the first missionaries to set foot on those islands were killed and eaten by cannibals only minutes after going ashore. But Paton wasn’t concerned with the prospect of being eaten alive by cannibals, because he hadn’t been eaten alive by fear. He was fearless in his pursuit of God’s will.
My pastor said something very wise that morning. He said that one of the fear-fueling lies we tell ourselves is that “what matters can be taken from us.”
I’m wrestling with God right now. Truly afraid to be obedient because of what it might, could, possibly, maybe cost me. I’ve convinced myself that what matters can be taken from me. And fear is eating me alive inside.
I am praying for the strength and the resolve to set sail, walk onto the shores of the island and say to the cannibals, “Dinner is here!” And to fearlessly pursue God’s will. After all, if I truly believe that nothing can take away what really matters, there’s really nothing left to fear.
“I simply do not build a new character so long as I place dependence upon other people ahead of dependence on God.”
A friend of mine shared that with me several months back, and I parked it in the back of my mind as a consistent reminder. It’s an entirely appropriate truth to meditate on as I embark on building new character in the new year.
I think my friend quoted this from something else, and may or may not have edited it along the way. In any event, apologies for not fully and appropriately citing it. Regardless of author, it rings true. Watch where you place your faith. If you’re like me, you will misplace it from time to time. I’m starting 2012 with the right frame of mind. Let’s see if I can maintain it!
We are a mediated society. There’s hardly a direct path to anything. There are always hoops to jump through, forms to fill out, strings that are attached. We can’t even directly approach the person we want to do business with. A few examples…
When you buy a car, you don’t get to haggle with the manager. You have to go through the salesman, who constantly runs back and forth until a mutually agreed upon price is reached.
When you call pretty much anyone in corporate America, you don’t get to talk directly to him or her. You get voicemail, or an operator or an assistant who has been trained and coached to not let anyone through.
If you find yourself in any sort of legal dispute, attorneys will be doing all the talking for you.
If you hole up inside a bank with hostages, you don’t get to talk directly to the people who can give you what you want. Instead, you end up with some guy who specializes in negotiation tactics.
You can’t even talk directly to the banker on that torturous game show Deal or No Deal. Howie has to broker the conversation.
Meanwhile, the Internet has created a collective consciousness where you don’t really need to have direct experiences with anyone or anything. You can simply Google it and add it to your vicarious knowledge bank.
With all of this connecting and facilitating going on, it can be easy to forget that approaching our God is no longer an activity that requires mediation. That hasn’t always been true, as the Lord states in Ezekiel 22:30.
So I sought for a man among them who would make a wall, and stand in the gap before Me on behalf of the land, that I should not destroy it; but I found no one. Therefore I have poured out My indignation on them with the fire of My wrath; and I have recompensed their deeds on their own heads.
Before Jesus, connecting with God required mediation of some sort. It required sacrifices and offerings. It required someone standing in the gap between God and man. Jesus obviously came to be the constant connector so that we no longer would have to worry about the gap between ourselves and God. He erased the space between us.
And today, we are unencumbered to approach God. Yet, we get tangled. We create the illusion that we need assistance to approach God or that there are physical obstacles or expansive spaces between us and God. But really and truly, there is no mediator, go-between, intermediary, translator, negotiator, gate-keeper, facilitator, agent, bookie, broker or manager required for us to reach God. There’s no great wall or lake or river or moat or enormous valley or vast transom in our way. There’s nothing and no one that is a bridge that must be crossed in order to connect to our God.
Spiritual leaders can edify and fortify us, help us see more clearly and feel more deeply. But even the saints among us are not required for true, personal intimacy between a man and his God.
For the longest time, I was waiting for someone or something to negotiate on my behalf. To play matchmaker and set me up with God for a lunch where we can get to know each other. Someone to serve as a messenger to hear my grievances and report back on what God has to say about them. I didn’t fully appreciate the gap had been filled by my faith in Jesus. And that God was standing right in front of me. Patiently waiting to speak with me. Directly.
It’s been such a liberating experience going directly to God. With no one and nothing between what He wants to share with me. I don’t always fully get the message. And maybe a mediator could help me better understand what He’s saying and thus help me make fewer mistakes. But I prefer to embrace the uncertainty and confusion I sometimes feel, the great mysteries my mind can’t wrap itself around. Because there’s nothing quite like spending time directly with God.
Just a simple thought for today to keep me grounded.
When I let stress overtake me…
When I let anxiety fill me…
When I let the swirl of life’s obstacles knock me off balance…
When I spend precious time worrying about God’s plan and His sovereignty…
When I start clutching to what I hold “valuable” in fear…
It’s like digging my fists into the ground and hanging on for dear life, just because the Earth is spinning on its axis. That’s how silly it is when I lack faith. That slow, insignificant movement of the world on its axis feels like being stuffed in a washing machine during the spin cycle.
The trivial burdens of life start to feel like mass chaos. Insurmountable. Overpowering. Because I’m placing the burden on myself, and not God.
Note to self: Slow it down. Breathe. And focus on God’s promises. Let Him worry about His plans.
Here’s a simple experiment for those of you with small children. If you have older children, drift back to that time in your life when sleep was not an option. No children? Borrow a toddler for a few days. Or just trust that I know what I’m talking about.
Here’s the deal. First, take your small fries to a daycare or a church nursery. Drop them off. Come back and get them, and watch what happens now that it is time to leave. Do they whine and cry about taking the toys with them? Do they roll around on the ground and throw a fit at the thought of leaving empty-handed? What usually happens is they are so excited to see you that they run to the front door and can’t wait to get scooped up by mom or dad.
Now, head on over to Toys R Us. Take your children down a few aisles. Let them play around with some of the items on the shelves. Now, try to leave without purchasing something and watch what happens. Is it the same as the daycare? Which, by the way, probably had a lot of the same toys sitting around. Nope. What usually happens is your children plead and beg and cry and tug at your shirt. Desperate. They’ll do anything, say anything. Just please, please, please buy something, ANYTHING.
What’s the difference? It’s quite simple. And you probably don’t need me to tell you what’s going on, now do you?
At the daycare, the child has figured out that the toys stay right where they are. They’ve come to expect that they are leaving without them. The toys can help pass the time till they get picked up, but they aren’t a lasting possession. So, it isn’t a big deal. When the parents get there, the kid is just glad to make a break for it.
But at the toy store, it’s a different story. Your child has learned that there is a decent chance to walk away from that place with a surprise or two, and they probably have figured out the most effective techniques for squeezing a few bucks out of your wallet. The expected outcome is that something is going home with them. They are playing for keeps.
In 1 Timothy, it clearly states that we come into this world with nothing, and it is certain that we won’t carry anything out either. It’s a daycare kind of deal. But I for one repeatedly approach life like a trip to Toys R Us. Struggling, stressing, scratching and clawing for stuff (ranging from toys, to status, to security) like I fully expect to carry it out with me. It’s so easy to let the toys define me. The stuff, the status, the accomplishments.
1 Timothy cautions against trusting in uncertain riches or leaning on knowledge at the expense of faith. In chapter 6, verses 4-5 it suggests this will result in envy, strife, reviling and evil suspicions. “Useless wranglings of men of corrupt minds and destitute of the truth, who suppose that godliness is a means of gain.”
I many times place my faith in the security of stuff. As well as the comfort of knowledge. And when I do that, I’m really saying I trust myself more than God. What I’m really saying is that I value the toys more than my father coming back for me.
Question: How would your life and your faith be different if you treated stuff as if you were in a daycare instead of a toy store? I’m pondering this question as well this week.
the way to (t)here 
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