THE KINDEST CUT

2 Samuel 23:24-24:25; Acts 3:1-26; Psalm 123:1-4; Proverbs 16:21-23

“Will you choose three years of famine throughout the land, three months of fleeing from your enemies or three days of severe plague throughout your land? Think this over and let me know what answer to give to the Lord.”

“Have mercy on us Lord, have mercy, for we have had our fill of contempt.”

“The wise are known for their understanding, and instruction is appreciated if it’s well presented…. From a wise mind comes wise speech; the words of the wise are persuasive.”

We all make bad decisions from time to time. Mistakes are, in fact, a great human commonality. What is not common, however, is how we respond to our own errors. Most consume ourselves with unhelpful rationalizations or unnecessary explanations. Some try to learn from the experience. A select few, though, actually accept responsibility, confess and simply suffer the consequences without complaint.  I am coming to believe that only this latter group is truly blessed for several reasons. First, excuses may explain, but they never justify. Second, while learning from our experiences is good, it is not all. It does not remove the guilt or permanently improve our underlying natures. That leaves confession, a different sort of “name it/claim it” which is the only response that gives the Holy Spirit a chance to redeem the situation. David had multiple chances to try out various strategies for dealing with his sin. His consistent return to simple repentance and redemption was a big part of what made and kept him a man after God’s own heart.

Why would God expressly tell David to take a census and then punish him for doing so? Because David did not blame God or complain of injustice, I took a second look. Turns out, the Lord wanted a tribute census, where each Hebrew counted would have been required to contribute to a Temple offering. The Jews had angered God, and this was to be their sentence/sacrifice. David, though, corrupted the process and turned it into a military census, counting those able to fight so he could more precisely number (or, possibly more accurately, gloat over) the size of his army.  In that light, one can see how what was intended to appease the Father ended up compounding His anger. The best thing David could do at that point was just own responsibility for his pride and accept the punishment. He did not implement God’s prescribed discipline. He could not undo or justify the harm his pride wrought or avoid the punishment the people’s sins against God required. That the two compounded each other is a lesson on what it means to ignore or cover up sin in the first place. Only when sin is effectively addressed can there be any hope of restoration or resurrection. David had actually interfered with the process, and a serious price had to be paid.

In studying this, one final tidbit also struck home. Turns out, I Chronicles 25 tells the same story, but attributes initiation of the census to Satan instead of to God. One of the better commentaries pointed out both accounts are right. God started the process to lead to restoration. Satan corrupted it to cause alienation. David carried it out for personal recognition. Explaining this gets us nowhere. Who doesn’t understand we are all subject to having our greater purposes and projects aborted or misdirected by the Evil One? Just learning this (again!) doesn’t provide much room for growth, either. Humans have understood their tendency to be spiritually misled for centuries, even as they have also exhibited a frustrating inability to avoid or withstand it over time. It is only in repenting that we, like David, find the deepest spiritual truth: forgiveness is not the absence of punishment; it is the restoration of relationship, and that never comes without cost.

My inability or failure to understand this basic concept kept me confused for years. I thought forgiveness meant no punishment. Therefore, as a parent, I did my kids a grave disservice by sometimes choosing to correct more through voicing disappointment than by discipline. I didn’t realize I wasn’t fighting fair. Disappointment may not intentionally punish, but the scars it can inflict run deeper than any penalty. Disappointment burdens. Disappointment also lingers. No one is ever truly sure when they’ve gotten past it, and it has a nasty way of compounding with each new, perceived failure.

That’s probably why Christ never corrects with disappointment. Because He does love us, He never pussy foots around sin’s penalty or His punishment of disobedience, either. He loves us enough to prove our errors have consequences, however unintended. But Jesus also loves us enough to pay the ultimate price for our sin Himself. Because of the Cross, we know where and when our guilt ends. We know redemption, and one more thing, too. Whatever the quality of our performance as God’s adopted children, as long as we remain willing to own our shortcomings and accept the Father’s loving discipline, our eternal relationship with Him is guaranteed. Godly discipline is actually “the kindest cut of all.”

GOD'S DELIGHT

2 Samuel 22:1-23:23; Acts 2:1-47; Psalm 122:1-9; Proverbs 16:19-20

“He reached down from heaven and rescued me; he drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemies.... The Lord supported me. He led me to a place of safety; he rescued me because he delights in me.”

“I see that the Lord is always with me. I will not be shaken, for he is right beside me. No wonder my heart is glad, and my tongue shouts his praises! My body rests in hope.”

“I was glad when they said to me, ‘Let us go to the house of the Lord.’”

 “God’s Delight” is hardly the way either my wife or I would describe ourselves. Come to think of it, there aren’t very many people we know who would presume to take that title for themselves. Yet that is exactly why Christ chose to die for us. We are God’s delight. No matter our shortcomings or our mistakes, the Lord delights in giving us hope. He stays beside us and believes in us, even when we don’t believe in Him, or ourselves. Scripture says again and again that the Holy Spirit will rescue us, if we will but be with Him. I have to resist the temptation to think that just hanging out means I have been “good for nothing.” Just being with, and abiding in, God, is the greatest act of worship. It allows the Spirit access to our hearts, and gives Him the chance to fill our emptiness.

In the course of the last twenty-four hours, I have again learned that lesson. Spending time with my parents, I haven’t done much but unplug from my normal world of business and busyness and just hang around the folks. We went to Sea World. We enjoyed the shows and walked about a million miles. We watched the Super Bowl and ate way too much junk food. I have not seen them so happy in at least five years. It really was a wonderful day. But they also left no doubt about what the best thing was for them. It wasn’t the shows or the game. It was just being with my wife and me, talking, laughing and sharing each other. The most valuable gift they got, the only gift that really mattered, the one thing they really treasured, was our presence. We didn’t have to do or work at anything in particular. We just had to be available and responsive. We delighted them simply because we cared enough to slow down for a few days to be with them.

This was a real revelation for me in particular. As I’ve said before, adolescence was pretty much a constant struggle. I spent my youth feeling I had to earn my parents’ love through achievement. I thought that was what they wanted. But maybe I was too hard on them, or too insensitive to really grasp their ultimate goal. Perhaps they just wanted me to understand I was not as inept or socially incompetent as I usually felt growing up. It could be they challenged me so I would realize my own potential. Whatever. None of that seems especially important today. Today, our bond has unquestionably changed. No longer is achievement the centerpiece, if it ever was. Relationship is what matters now, to all of us.

So it is with our heavenly Father, too. All of us spend more of our time trying to please Jesus than just being with Him. When our actions fall short of what is pleasing to Him, we tend to get down on ourselves and pull away from Him in shame. But that’s the last thing Christ wants. What He wants – all He really asks - is to spend time with us sharing our thoughts, feelings and hearts, whatever their condition.  We may be ashamed, or full, of ourselves. No matter. Christ just wants us spending time with Him. Once we reconnect, His Spirit in us will take care of the rest, and will heal whatever is in us that is not of Him, if we allow it.

God wants only what is best for us. What is best for us is Christ. In Him, we have forgiveness of our sins and are reconciled to God. We are free to just hang out with the Father.  We should all spend more time doing that and worrying less about what else we are going to accomplish. After all, no accomplishment will win us eternal life, and compared to heaven, no earthly reward or recognition has much significance. God wants to delight in us. We owe Him the opportunity. All it takes is a little time and attention. It really isn’t any work at all. We just have to get used to the idea that we really are more than what we do.

THE BETTER PART OF VALOUR

2 Samuel 20:14-21:22; Acts 1:1-26; Psalm 121:1-8; Proverbs 16:18

“When David and his men were in the thick of battle, David became weak and exhausted. … But Abishai son of Zeruiah came to David’s rescue and killed the Philistine. Then David’s men declared, ‘You are not going out to battle with us again! Why risk snuffing out the light of Israel?’”

“’Do not leave Jerusalem until the Father sends you the gift he promised, as I told you before. John baptized with water, but in just a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.”

“I look up to the mountains—does my help come from there? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth! He will not let you stumble; the one who watches over you will not slumber.”

“Pride goes before destruction,
and haughtiness before a fall.”

I’m tired. I admit it. Not yet at the end of my rope, I nevertheless see the rope has an end, and I am fast approaching it. Yet, I continue my headlong dash toward exhaustion, unable, it seems – or unwilling, more honestly - to say no mas to much of anything. The good news is that, even as I write this, I am finally forced to disengage a bit, flying to Orlando for a long weekend with my folks. The Blackberry won’t be off (C’mon, Lord, I can’t just go cold turkey!), but it will be separated from my belt. I’ll still do this – this was a one year covenant with the Spirit which has already borne enough fruit that I cannot bring myself to deliberately miss even one day. And I’ll probably still think more than I should about what I’ve left behind and what will be waiting for me on my return. But I’m determined to be less entrenched. Each time I see my folks, there’s less chance of a next time. It’s not a maudlin thought; it’s reality. It is a reality that should make the times we do still have together all the more precious. Such sacred moments help me reprioritize and reset my stress tolerance back to the green zone. They help me face it: I am an adrenalin junkie. As a beloved sister in Christ pointed out last night, adrenalin kills. At best, while it delivers a rush, the experience is always necessarily superficial. The risk is, if we diet too long on adrenalin, we can get to where we think it’s the best thing. Just like a crack addict, right before the overdose.

I bet the disciples struggled with this, too. Imagine speaking directly to the Living Christ, then being told to wait for the Holy Spirit to empower them! Who could do that? I personally identify more with David. Not that I’m anyone’s light, but I am getting older, certainly less able and less willing to attempt the things I did easily at twenty-five. Several folks have challenged my sanity in taking on so many projects since September. Maybe it is middle-aged crazy, but in any event, it also keeps me feeling vital, and in my prideful baseness, I’m not above admitting I like that quite a lot.

The problem is, it’s not about me. It’s about, or ought to be about, the ongoing relationships with those I love the most. Those folks (mine, included) are counting on me to be there for them for a long time to come. They really do love me (hard as that can be to understand), and want to be able to tangibly love me, hug me, and hear me laugh and fuss until the Lord Himself calls me home. So, this entry is cathartic. It’s revealed an ugly underside to the life of an adrenalin junkie. Anyone who favors the rush of the moment, the feeling of self-importance, to the feeling of another’s arms around them, is not just a victim of adrenalin overload. They are being fundamentally, destructively selfish.

I was not created to be an adrenalin junkie. It’s not who I want to be in my heart of hearts, and it’s not who my loved ones want me to be, either. God calls us to a balanced life, one in which we need not substitute the rush of adrenalin for the filling of the Spirit.