:: in.a.mirror.dimly ::

There is one question you can ask while studying the Bible that will help you see more, learn more, and hopefully apply more than you ever could by just reading the stories.

The Bible is full of people who were just like us. It was written by people just like us. The details are there, tucked away in the spare prose and poetry. The trouble is how to unlock those details so that we can relate to the people in the Bible and sort out what it means for us.

We’re not used to reading books like the Bible. There are a lot of ways that’s true, but one obvious detail is that the Bible wasn’t typed on a computer with infinite pages. The writers of the Bible couldn’t pick up legal pads at Staples or drop off a manuscript at a printing press.

The Bible was written on scrolls—precious, limiting scrolls that could only hold so much. Long-winded writers need not apply for writing the Bible.

These authors were masterful in their economy of words. They distilled stories down to the most important details. If we see something in the Bible, no matter how small the detail, we need to ask, “Why is this here?”

This one question will help you dig into the backstory and the implied situations described in each story.

There are lots of other really good questions that will help you study Bible. However, this one question:

• Forces us to slow down
• Helps us read carefully
• Places us in the events recorded with new eyes

If we can answer the question, “Why is this here?” we may be able to figure out what the Bible has to say to us. We may find hidden treasures. We may even find out why we’re here.

This isn’t a post about God having a smite button. The results I describe are not unlike smiting, but they are entirely self-inflicted. I’m talking about the call to follow Jesus as a disciple and the daily moments we have to choose between obedience and our own plans.

I’ve learned that God lets us resist him. We can fight against God. However, we often won’t like the results. When I have said “no” or “wait” to God, I’ve discovered one of the following: frustration, anxiety, anger, or sadness. Sometimes I get a mix of them all.

I was reading the story of Elisha yesterday, and I began to wonder what would have happened if he resisted the wardrobe change that Elijah suggested for him. What if Elisha said, “No thanks. I’d rather hang here at my cozy estate and keep plowing with the oxen than put my life at risk with that crazy king of Israel!”

Here is where interpretation ceases and a little creative speculation comes into play. Sure, Elisha would have enjoyed some great years at his farm. But if you know the story of Elisha, which I heartily recommend, God repeatedly used Elisha to give the Israelites victory over the invading Arameans. When Samaria was surrounded, God spoke through Elisha and brought deliverance to the people of Israel.

What would have happened if Elisha had refused God’s call for his life?

We can only guess about the various scenarios that would have unfolded, but here are a few suggestions:

Elisha Would Have Struggled with Greed

If he had remained at his substantial farm with his 12-yoke of oxen workforce, Elisha would have continued to enjoy financial security. He never would have known God with the same intimacy as a prophet. In fact, he would have most likely struggled with greed, and who knows what could have happened from there.

Israel Would Have Been Destroyed

Without Elisha’s God-given guidance, the Arameans would have most likely captured the capital and occupied the rest of the country. Elisha would have eventually lost his farm and oxen at the end of the day.

The Worship of God Would Have Suffered

Faithful prophets of the Lord had it rough back in Elisha’s day. They had endured serious persecution under Ahab’s queen Jezebel, and even Elijah had fled in terror at her threats. Elisha helped fight against idol worship and kept his fellow believers on track. 

What’s at Stake for Us?

The story of Elisha reminds me that the decisions I make about obedience can have incredible ramifications for both my own future and the future of others. In addition, saying no to God does not guarantee safety or happiness. In fact, taking a big risk for God and watching God provide is a far safer place to be—even if the process feels anything but “safe.”

God doesn’t delight in making us miserable. He doesn’t use a smite button when we disobey him in this world. He lets us have what we want. When we repent and seek out his desires for us, the self-smiting will cease, and we’ll find peace even in the midst of facing challenges at the prompting of God.

As a veteran of Catholic elementary school and a survivor of fundamentalism, I like to think of myself as rather experienced in the realm of poorly exercised authority. My elementary school seemed to teem with sadistic teachers who only knew how to punish us in groups because of the one undiagnosed ADD kid.

At their worst, the fundamentalists figured out a way to make the Bible feel like my sadistic Catholic school teachers—a guide to the punishments we’re bound to receive unless we’re perfect. As a child, most of the religious authority figures I knew were rather heavy on the guilt and punishment end of things, save for a few women who were amazing teachers and Christians.

Attaching the word “loving” with authority strikes me as impossible in some unguarded moments, and yet, for Christians, this is really the only way authority truly works.

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Over the weekend our kitchen was full of bowls with hacked up apples, huge pots boiling with water, a food mill, and rows of quart jars. The promise of homemade applesauce for the long winter prompted us to spend the bulk of our Sunday hard at work in our kitchen scrubbing, cutting, boiling, and ladling.

I like to play the part of the menial slave who just focuses on one big project: washing the apples, cutting the apples, etc. My wife is far better suited for the supervision and “big picture” part of canning. She’s good at reading recipes and devising a plan.

I’ve never been good at following recipes. I usually forget something. Knowing this tendency, I could stand in front of a cook book for hours trying to make sure I got it right. If I was in charge of making the applesauce by myself, there’s a chance I could still be standing in front of the cookbook today.

When you’re canning something, you need to follow the instructions carefully to ensure everything stays sterile and that you cook your fruit/vegetables enough. The instructions are important, but the nourishment comes from putting them into practice and making something. No actions, no applesauce, no matter how well I think I understand the instructions. In fact, the instructions aren’t doing me much good without the applesauce they’re supposed to produce.

Theology often needs more applesauce.

That is to say, if theology provides us some critical instructions and guidelines relating to the nature of God, they’re only useful to the point that we actually meet the God we learn about. Our nourishment is knowing God and doing his will—it’s like eating a warm loaf of bread.

For all of my pouting about following recipes, the irony is that I often prefer just reading theology over putting it into practice. I’m malnourished because I miss out on God’s sustaining presence. If I’m not producing fruit that will last—or fruit that is “preserved”—there’s a chance that I’ve put too much value on learning “about” God rather than living “with” God.

Recipes are useful for pointing us in the right direction. We need good recipes just like we need good theology, but if the recipes don’t lead to something substantial and life-changing, we’re probably just starving ourselves.

In the sometimes illogical world of sports where beards are grown in the playoffs and jerseys are left unwashed for good luck, there is a term for fair-weather fans who only support a team at the peak of its success: bandwagon fans. The bandwagon fans don’t endure the losing seasons or the ups and downs along the road to winning the championship.

Bandwagon fans want all of the enjoyment at the end of the season without enduring the regular season. So far as I can tell, that’s perfectly fine in sports. However, when we apply the bandwagon fan principle to other things, it’s not quite as attractive.

The Bandwagon Fan for Campaigns

For example, we have politicians campaigning right now for positions such as president, best friend to lobbyists, and most likely be swayed by large campaign donors. Campaigns have staff and volunteers who invest long, hard days for the sake of their candidates.

Can you imagine someone refusing to help this candidate when given the chance, merely clicking a button in the voting both, and then celebrating as if he/she had been an integral part of the campaign? The bandwagon fan doesn’t look so hot in that scenario.

Bandwagon Faith

The interesting thing about Jesus, is that he’ll welcome anyone into the Kingdom at anyone point of his/her life. If you receive Jesus with your dying breath, you’re just as much a part of the Kingdom as someone who was raised in a Christian home, serving Christ with every breath.

There are no merit badges to accumulate in the Kingdom. We can enter it at any time.

On the other hand, when we are given an opportunity to follow Jesus today, and we put it off until a later point, we have a major problem. We are reminded in the book of Hebrews that today is the day of salvation. If you hear God’s voice today, don’t ignore it.

Let his voice speak into your life, and then take action. Faith is demonstrated by works in the present, not future aspirations.

Bandwagon faith says that we don’t need to fully commit ourselves to God’s Kingdom campaign today. The “bandwagonner” plans to celebrate fully in the Kingdom some day, but fails to invest in the work of God today. Bandwagon faith tries to squeak by with the bare minimum of commitment, ignoring the call of God in the present.

When Christians fail to live in obedience, it’s like we’re saying to God, “We’ll take care of ourselves today, and we’ll get around to you later. Oh, and we can’t wait for that big party with you some day!”

Obedience make’s God’s call a priority, taking tentative, sometimes faltering steps forward. When we leave bandwagon faith behind, we are able to find the joy and peace of God in our present circumstances, even if the way forward is sometimes uncertain and difficult.

We learn that the joy and celebration promised in God’s coming Kingdom can actually be ours to enjoy today. Bandwagon faith robs us of the most precious gift of God: Jesus fully present in our lives today through his Spirit.

These two men were responsible. They had business to take care of, and they were not idle in addressing it. One was fixing his nets along the shore of Galilee, the other had to take care of his father’s burial.

Culturally speaking, the man tasked with burying his father was especially living in careful observance of the law. He was in the right place, doing what mattered.

The difference between the two men came when Jesus called, saying, “Follow me.” This wasn’t something that could be delayed. Jesus literally wanted them to drop what they were doing and to reorient their lives around him.

One man knew when to stop, dropping the lower priorities for the person who mattered most.

The other man asked for time so that he could wrap up his obligations and still follow Jesus.

Learning how to stop is difficult, especially when you think you’re doing everything right. Other priorities can interfere when the most important call comes to us.

Can we stop?

Are we cultivating practices that help us stop daily to hear God’s voice?

Are we ready to stop and respond when the call comes?

One of the most disconcerting phrases in the Bible may be, “We rejoice in our sufferings.” How in the world could a sane person ever arrive at the conclusion that suffering is something to celebrate?

Even worse, we’re guaranteed troubles, trials, persecution, and other forms of suffering in this world. Something in the back of our minds may tell us this is the case, but it doesn’t help to read that right in the Bible.

In other words, the Bible assures us that trouble is coming. Then, once trouble comes, it assures us that we can rejoice in the midst of it. How does someone arrive at this point? In fact, should we even desire to reach this point?

Discipleship is all about the process where God reshapes us into people with his priorities. We become committed to manifesting his Kingdom in this world and detached from the desire to build our own kingdoms. Instead of building faulty structures for our own security and comfort, the Kingdom sends us out. Before we’re willing to leave our faulty buildings behind, we need to be changed.

Left to our own devices we’ll opt to stay put, to compromise the calling of discipleship. People untouched by the power of God have not been conformed into his image. They will steer clear of anything that could lead to suffering or persecution. They have their own kingdoms to worry about.

We’d never take the risks of discipleship without God’s power in our lives that makes us holy and renews our minds. This process of being conformed into God’s image is why holiness is so critically important for disciples.

As we learn to value holiness, we’ll realize that suffering is a sign that this world is passing away, that God’s Kingdom is our only hope. Suffering helps us see the world from God’s perspective.

Suffering reminds us that our little kingdoms are weak and flimsy. God is present in the midst of our suffering, preparing us for the day when all tears shall be wiped away and our joy will be made complete.

Have you ever become frustrated by the Bible? Sometimes the commands of Paul set me on edge.

He writes to the Ephesians, “be renewed in the attitude your minds.” Fine, I’m all for that. My mind is feeling a bit stale these days. How exactly should I go about that?

It’s tempting to read these verses and to think it’s all up to me. However, the bigger picture of holiness presented by Paul and throughout the Bible actually takes quite a bit of pressure off us.

The power to become like Jesus comes from his indwelling Spirit. However, are we really off the hook completely? I mean, we dare not insert our own works into the equation?

This is where Protestants can especially struggle since we’re so “salvation by works-averse.” The power is 100% from God, but we can neglect it. I’m not in any way capable of powering my chop saw, but I need to plug it in to the power source and keep it there if I want to cut anything.

The word that Jesus used to describe this process was “abiding.” The abiding is our work. It’s what we have to do if we want to become holy and renewed in our minds. A branch can’t grow any fruit on its own, but it needs to remain connected to the vine in order to grow grapes. The nutrients come up through the vine as the branch stays connected.

Our abiding work tends to put us at odds with our fast-paced culture that values multi-tasking and increased efficiency. Dare I suggest that our culture doesn’t really know what it is to “abide.” It seems lazy or wasteful. The heroes know how to squeeze every last ounce of productivity out of their time, money, and even other people. Those who know how to abide are an anomaly.

The examples of abiding in scripture are sometimes quite extreme to our eyes:

• Moses spending 40 days on the mountain.
• Joshua remaining in the tabernacle long after Moses had left.
• Samuel sleeping in the tent of the Lord.
• Anna fasting and praying night and day for her entire life.
• John the Baptist spending his adult years in the seclusion of the wilderness.
• Paul wandering in the wilderness by himself before beginning his ministry.
• Jesus praying for an entire evening.

Why would all of these founders of our faith spend so much time in solitude, away from productive ministry and work? What is the value of this time?

The connection is this:

• Without 40 days on the mountain, Moses fails to lead the people to the Jordan River.
• Without those evenings in the tabernacle, Josh falters when he leads the people into the Promised Land.
• Without those nights in the tent of the Lord, Samuel can’t hear God speak to him.
• Without fasting and prayer, Anna misses the Messiah and the message God gave to her.
• Without wandering in the wilderness, John and Paul can’t hear the message God wants them to share.
• Jesus modeled this for us. It’s striking to think that even God incarnate set aside time to hear the voice of God. It’s like a Trinitarian brain teaser.

Do I honestly believe I can imitate Jesus effectively by praying less than he did?

If I’m ever frustrated by my lack of progress with holiness, one of the first places to begin is the work of abiding. I can’t explain what happens when God gets ahold of us or how he “makes” us holy or renews our minds. We have models who have gone before us who suggest that this is the only way to be changed.

I take my metaphors to their natural conclusion, which I feel is my warrant as a writer. So, when someone says, “I go to church to get fed,” I can’t help thinking of a baby sitting in a high chair with his mouth open and someone stuffing food into it. Fussing and spit up is part of it.

That metaphor of being “fed” at church has been a powerful one. When Willow Creek Community Church  conducted their church-wide study called Reveal, they discovered that they needed to help their people become “self-feeders.” In other words, mature Christians had grown too dependent on being spoon-fed truth. Church was not a self-serve buffet, but rather a series of high chairs.

We need teaching and instruction, especially if we’re young in the faith. The Bible is tricky, but we also need to learn how to pray and serve others.

Have we possibly associated church too closely with being fed spiritual truth to the exclusion of some other important things?

And related to that, How responsible should mature Christians be for their own instruction in the faith?

The difference between now and most other times in Christian history is that we have access to incredible resources such as books, blogs, online videos, and podcasts. We have accessible commentaries, study tools, and hundreds of trained teachers publishing books that will crack open the Bible for us.

There are some amazing books being published by seminary professors right now that languish in obscurity between the academy and the church because they’re a little technical at times. Make no mistake, teaching yourself is hard work.

I’m not trying to say that pastors preaching sermons are unnecessary. Rather, I wonder if it’s time to reimagine what being “fed” could look like and whether we focus so much on being fed that we forget about the other things that our churches could do. In the process we can take a lot of pressure off our pastors and allow them to focus on ensuring we are becoming spiritually healthy, living as obedient disciples, and serving others where needed in our communities.

I personally know that it’s much easier to spend ten hours pouring over a commentary because Paul said truth is important. However, I’m not quite as fast to jump to the aid of the poor in my community for a few hours, even though we see examples in Acts of the early church providing for orphans and widows, to say nothing of James.

Focusing on teaching truth is pretty easy for folks like me, especially those of us who enjoyed seminary. However, teaching and instructing is just one part of the larger picture. In addition, it may be possible to still do it well without reinventing the wheel.

I’ll be honest, I’m not a lover of sermons. There have been sermons that changed my life, but I think there could have been many, many more life-changing sermons if the pastor stopped talking after fifteen minutes and we focused on putting it into practice as a community. In other words, it’s good to teach that Jesus delivered people from evil spirits, but I’m just as interested in taking time on Sunday to pray for people who feel tormented by temptation.

Each denomination has its strengths when it comes to teaching and preaching. I come from a background that was heavy on teaching, so I’m writing from that perspective—hoping for a little more practice and a little less head knowledge when I gather with believers in community.

I’m aware that we need diversity and that my experience will differ from others. I’m also aware that these are big, systemic and tradition-based matters I’m raising today. Change, if it ever happens, would be slow.

However, I think we need to step back and imagine some new possibilities:

What could it look like if we took some of the teaching pressures away from our pastors and placed it on ourselves?

How could we ensure that teaching still happens?

Would our pastors be able to minister a little more effectively with less teaching responsibilities?

About ten years ago I read a book by a guy who named his ministry “Luke 10 Ministries.” Based on the command of Jesus that his followers should not take anything with them on their ministry trips, he boldly planted churches with no resources on hand. He trusted God to provide his needs, and since he was clothed with a roof over his head, things seemed to be working out.

He had a very clear calling from God to do his work, and I certainly can’t fault him on any point. I never would question what he heard God tell him to do, but as I process his use of scripture, a little red flag goes up for me.

After Jesus told his disciples to take nothing for the journey, he later advised that they take not only money and an extra cloak—he told them to carry a sword!

I don’t think Jesus intended them to use the swords in a juggling act. He had warned his followers about threats to their lives, and it may be possible that Jesus was permitting them to defend themselves.

If you’re up against the Roman army or an angry mob, it’s not like a sword is going to help you lead an insurrection or that an extra  bit of clothing is going to change your needs for shelter or food. However, since Jesus gave two different commands to his followers before leaving for their ministry trips, I have to wonder how we go about interpreting and applying the words of Jesus.

Jesus did permit his followers to take a few things on their second trip, so what gives?

I see a tendency of my own to explain away the commands of Jesus with theology. I can look at this Luke 10 ministry and say, “Yeah, but that doesn’t apply to me. Look, Jesus told people to carry swords!”

This is a tricky business. Theology can become a tool to keep Jesus at arm’s length, to resist critically thinking through the cost of discipleship.

On one hand though, we can adopt an overly simplistic reading of scripture that tries to take everything literally without considering the nuances of a passage. Foolish decisions may result. On the other, we can mistakenly complicate matters with theological complexities and use them as an excuse to do nothing.

I tend to lean toward the latter. Meanwhile, I wonder if others like our friend in the Luke 10 network may make some decisions based on too simple a reading of scripture.

I don’t know. I’m just thinking out loud here.

I will say that I think this minister started his ministry because the Holy Spirit prompted him to take a leap of faith based on what he read in Luke 10. I can’t argue against that, and I think that hints at the challenges we face when applying scripture.

Every person who claims to follow the Bible literally picks and chooses what will be read literally and what will be explained away through the magic of interpretation. Every person who reads the Bible more figuratively does picking and choosing too.

My point is that we’re all pickers and choosers. It’s no easy task to apply scripture to our lives. In fact, it’s impossible.  The very thought of this sends me to the Holy Spirit because I’m quite hopeless on my own.

There is something holy and nearly unexplainable that happens when we read the Bible and God speaks to us. That’s the moment when our theologies and philosophies need to stop.

Making my inner theologian chill out when the Spirit speaks may be one of my greatest struggles each day. Theology can make me Jesus-ish, but the business of making me actually like Christ is something that only God can do—that is, if I’ll get out of his way.