Divine Date

From one man he made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands.

-Acts 17:26

You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.

-Psalm 139:16

Two nights ago a brilliant white orb leapt up to be caught in a tangle of shredded clouds. Earth’s shadow crept over its face while it struggled to escape.

Oh, no, I might miss the eclipse! I fretted.

Oh me of little faith. An hour or so later, the moon won the struggle and blessed me with a stunning, uninterrupted view of its dusky red surface.

Thank you, God. Thank you that you had this moment planned out for me since you sent the moon and earth spiraling around each other. Thank you that you know how much I care about the moon’s phases and this eclipse.

And thank you, too, that you have a plan for every day of my life. Not just the ones when I’m “winning” the spiritual battle, but even a plan to redeem and use those down-and-out days where all I want to do is cry and eat ice-cream.

Too many days, Satan ties a blindfold tightly over my mind, and I do not see God’s daily storyweaving. But this day, God had a special date for me.

What special time has God schemed up in your life recently? I’d love to hear!

Deciphering Babel

Recently I was asked to write a post for the school I work for.
I am pleased to share that post with you today!

 

Joseph and Benjamin are hard at work on a new construction project. It’s the biggest contract their company has ever had, and they are proud to be working on an impressive, top-of-the-line skyscraper.

“When we’re finished,” touts Joseph, “Our company will be the most famous in the area. We’ll never have to move far away for another job!”

“What?” says Benjamin, “Wo ting bu dong. Ni shuo shenme?”

“You está diciendo palabras locos!” replies a worried Joseph.

Shortly afterwards, they abandon their skyscraper.

******

Fast forward several thousand years. Joseph’s and Benjamin’s great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandchildren gather in Jerusalem to worship the God of Israel. It’s early in the morning, and street vendors are just opening their fruit stands and meat carts to welcome the influx of tourists here for the festival. Suddenly, a local man stands on a nearby rooftop and begins preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ.

“Ting de dong!” exclaims Benji.

“Yo comprendo!” shouts Joe.

“He’s right! Jesus truly is the way to God!” others chime.

******

Pentecost is a glorious anti-Babel. Where Babel shows the devastating discipline of a God who deserves obedience, Pentecost reveals Divine wisdom that leaps language barriers in a single bound. Occasionally even now, God gives this supernatural understanding. But most often, he trains us through the slow, arduous process of climbing the language barrier with nothing but a rope and the guidance of those who’ve climbed before.

I am absolutely blessed to help our students scale this wall. I hope that once they do, they will travel to Judea, Samaria, and even the ends of the earth.

Stop Signs

Since you died with Christ to the elemental spiritual forces of this world, why, as though you still belonged to the world, do you submit to its rules: "Do not handle! Do not taste! Do not touch!"? Such regulations…lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence.
-Colossians 2:20-21, 23

For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, 
but to save the world through him.

-John 3:17

A few days ago I rolled through a four-way stop sign. It waits patiently outside our city to host the occasional car. I’d carefully scanned all directions: no cars, no pedestrians, no bikes. I slowed and curved gently to my right.

“STO-OP!!!!” an exasperated screech jolted my senses. I braked, fearing unforeseen danger. It took me several seconds to realize that the yell had escaped from a letter-of-the-law farmer walking in a nearby field. Shaken, yet in no danger, I cautiously resumed my homeward commute.

The farmer’s yell bugged me. I felt frustrated and condemned. I had clearly fulfilled the stop sign’s goal of careful driving, yet my host of mental Pharisees demanded that I had done wrong.

Those Pharisees often screech STOP! at my soul. Afraid of crossing the letter, I shrink from the spirit of God’s law. It is easier to finish the grading I promised to hand back tomorrow than to care for broken-hearted student in front of me, easier to walk away from my aching Christian brother than to risk being seen as “indiscreet,” easier to fully stop at the sign than to continually be aware of traffic around me.

Satan is the accuser of the brethren, constantly replaying the rolling stops of our lives as evidence of our failings. Jesus, on the other hand, joyfully and flagrantly healed on the Sabbath.

It’s time to root out the red octagons in my life and plant yielded triangles.

Tools for Fall

"God uses [scripture] to prepare and equip his people to do every good work."  

-2 Timothy 3:16
 

I recently resumed working at Hobby Lobby after an 11-month hiatus. Eager to assure my manager that I still remember how to do my job, I jumped at the chance to do a small “special” project.

“Go print off some sale signs for the fall end caps and put them up,” she directed.

I strode briskly to the break room, where I knew black and white sale signs lounged, waiting to be copied onto colorful paper and planted around the sales floor.

I scoured the sign pile. Christmas, Christmas Floral, Beads, Halloween, Paint Sets, Wooden Letters. The Fall sign had evidently executed an elaborate escape plan. I sighed in frustration. Why would she tell me to do something and then not give me the tools to do it? I grumbled internally.

Perhaps it’s in the office, a hopeful thought chirped, so I embarked on a fruitless scan of possible hiding places. I eventually left, slunched over in my not-able-to-prove-my-awesomeness anger.

_________________________________________

I have known for some months now that God is calling me back to teach in Asia. The cost to go with my company is significantly higher than any amount I have raised before, and it intimidates me, like Goliath. Since I have forgotten God’s immeasurable resources, I scrounge around where I found the money last time. I’m sure it was around my church somewhere. But this time my church is smaller, and many of the relationships I depended on are gone.

_________________________________________

I found my manager and told her about the missing signs. “Really, they weren’t in the break room?” she wondered. “Well, I’ll just have to print up some more.”

Five minutes later, a neat stack of colorfully copied signs—proclaiming cheap prices for autumn wreaths, candles, centerpieces, and more—sat patiently at my work station. She’d even thoughtfully placed scotch tape with them.

________________________________________

God, I’m sorry I don’t trust you, I confess. If you want me to follow you to Asia in this way, You’ve promised to take care of my needs, including the ones with dollar signs. Forgive me for not trusting you as much as I trust my Hobby Lobby manager. How utterly ridiculous of me!

_______________________________________

Has God called you to something hard? Remember that as His slave, you have the right to ask for and expect Him to provide what you need to get the job done. He delights in providing in ways that you could never plan!

Paper Gods

“[The nations’] idols are merely things of silver and gold,
    shaped by human hands.
They have mouths but cannot speak,
    and eyes but cannot see.
They have ears but cannot hear,
    and noses but cannot smell.
They have hands but cannot feel,
    and feet but cannot walk,
    and throats but cannot make a sound.
And those who make idols are just like them,
    as are all who trust in them.

-Psalm 115:4-8

Looming over a Hong Kong road choked with rushed taxis, nervous personal cars, and lumbering double-decker buses; a sophisticated, 40-foot-tall goddess of luxury stares alluringly into the glass-walled mall across the street. Worship money, she croons silently, worship ease.

I sit pensively on a barstool in the mall’s cheapest food venue, Starbucks. I am studying Ezekiel—chock-full of God’s anger at Israel’s idols—and find myself shocked how any nation could trade the living, potent, active Creator for a tall, red-painted stretch of canvas. She is hardly the only advertisement on the street; I can see at least five massive television screens and dozens of smaller posters without even moving my head. Smaller temples for cheaper gods.

Presently, five Chinese workmen climb onto the ledge below her. Their tiny dirt-covered plaid and homemade towel-under-the-ball-cap sun protection contrast her elegance. Are they here to worship? I wonder.

The men pull the massive red blanket down about ten feet and begin savagely hacking away. They toss the scrunched, uneven red chunk down to the glass ledge one floor below. Having dabbled in the printing industry, I am shocked. That poster must have cost at least several hundred dollars! Maybe several thousand! At least save the canvas!

Disregarding my inner protestations, the men carelessly slice off the goddess’s thighs, belly, arms, neck, head, until she is nothing more than a handful of crumpled shreds. They carefully hook a fresh poster to the building’s pulley system and heave up the god of this month: a suave, monochrome couple reminding passers-by that romance can be theirs if only they will trade their retirement for a timeless timepiece. I sigh. Will the nations ever learn?