Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Badly Mistaken



“You are badly mistaken!”  Mark 12:27

Making a mistake is bad, but being badly mistaken is worse.  Such is so because while the first deals with what we do, the second relates to what we think—and what we think affects who we are which influences what we do, and round and round it goes.  In other words, the key to doing what’s right is believing what’s right, and never in our lives has believing what’s right mattered more than now as the cultural pursuit of things spiritual increases but the passion for things Scriptural decreases. 

Faith as a general acknowledgement of a supernatural divinity is hailed as a positive attribute, but a focused confidence in Christ alone and in what the Bible says alone is berated as close-minded and bigoted. Such criticism should never scare us nor surprise us for erroneous belief is nothing new under the sun, and sadly sometimes those who should know truth best seem to be the most blind.  We see this in our day, and Jesus saw it in His with a group of guys known as the Sadducees.

The Sadducees were members of a Jewish religious and political faction who believed that only the first five books of the Bible were divine revelation.  Since the rest of the Old Testament was disregarded, they did not believe in angels and demons, the resurrection, or any kind of life after death.  It was to this group of men, who disagreed greatly with Jesus’ doctrine and doings, that He spoke a phrase which shows up only once in Scripture—“You are badly mistaken!”(Mk 12:27).

They came to test him, trying to trick him and hoping to catch him in a contradiction, so they tossed out a hypothetical setup about a lady who subsequently married seven brothers in hopes of bearing children to carry on her first husband’s name.  And then they slyly and smugly asked, “At the resurrection, whose wife will she be, since all seven were married to her?”(Mk 12:23).  The Saducees were certain their supposed situation presented a puzzle with no plausible solutions, but Jesus sorted it all out and shook them all down all in one breath.

First there was the “talkin’ to” about their failures—“Are you not in error because you do not know the Scriptures or the power of God!”(Mk 12:24).  (Ouch!)  This was followed by some serious teaching on the afterlife—“When the dead rise, they will neither marry nor be given in marriage; they will be like the angels in heaven”(Mk 12:25).  Without pausing Jesus laid out the straight truth about the resurrection—“Now about the dead rising—have you not read in the book of Moses, in the account of the bush, how God said to him, ‘I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’?  He is not the God of the dead but of the living”(Mk 12:27).  And while they were still reeling, there came the straightforward indictment on the sum of their beliefs—“You are badly mistaken!”(Mk 12:27).

“Badly mistaken” is not a different interpretation on a non-essential precept.  It is not a varied view on how God started this earth or how He will end it.  It is not whether you dunk, sprinkle, or douse in the name of the triune God.  “Badly mistaken” means you have missed the crucial and indispensable truth that God so loved the world that He became a man who lived a perfect life on this earth and tore Himself apart on the cross so we would not have to be separated from Him forever because of our sin.  “Badly mistaken” means you do not believe that Jesus conquered death physically and spiritually.  “Badly mistaken” means you’re trusting in your being better instead of God’s best.  “Badly mistaken” means you think that the paths of all religions lead to the same place.  “Badly mistaken” means you might believe in the existence of God and even the events of Jesus’ earthly life but you have never received His gift of salvation by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone.  

Believing what’s right makes more than just a big difference; it makes all the difference.
Stick with Scripture, and you’ll never be badly mistaken.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

The Graduate


Part of my heart is in a panic right now because my oldest daughter graduates from high school on Saturday and heads out by herself into God’s big, beautiful world.  It seems impossible that this event is immediate reality, and I join piles of parents who have stared at a commencement gown hanging in the closet and wondered how in the world this happened so fast.

All the sayings I’ve heard since her birth are true.  “Time flies!”  “The days may seem long but the years are short.”  “Cherish these moments because they won’t last.”  They didn’t, but, oh, were they delightful!  Bringing her home from the hospital, rocking her gently to sleep, seeing her wobbly first step, hearing her cute, silly voice, swinging her high at the orange playground, eating popsicles in the pool, piling in the van to visit grandparents, listening to her laugh with her sisters, serving pizza at her school on Fridays, watching her sing in the fifth grade play, cheering as she pitched a softball, kicked a soccer ball, and slammed a tennis ball, applauding her wins on the swim team, beaming as she led in the praise team, gasping as she was crowned homecoming queen, dressing her up for dinners and dances, roasting hot dogs in the back yard, popping caramel corn for family nights, making brownies and cookies for her friends, and smiling with joy as her sweet, soft heart grew larger and larger to love lots and lots of people in lots and lots of ways.  So many cherished moments.  So many precious memories. 

And now the pages of the calendar have flipped again and again and again, and the occasion of her graduation has finally arrived.

To be honest, my angst has much more to do with my faults in the past than her path in the future.  In less than three months, she’ll be heading off to a public university where pitfalls and perils abound, but where God is also busy transforming hearts and changing lives and where I’m confident she will grow in grace and get to know Him so much more.  So what I fret about is not what she will do but what I haven’t done.  

I haven’t taught her enough about cooking, sewing, and cleaning.  I haven’t trained her how to change a tire, jump-start a car, or replace a faulty battery.  I fear the times I was short, snippy, and sour will crowd her memory more than the moments I was caring and kind.  I feel uncertain that I showed her enough good and unsure that I shared enough God. I should have prayed with her more, read with her more, studied with her more, taught her more, told her more, memorized more Scripture with her, and made more time to just be with her and enjoy her laugh, her tears, her joys, and her love.   

Now the time for such is short, and I must trust that the God who created her, called her, redeemed her, and loves her more than I ever could will fill in the gaps with His grace and will guide my girl as she goes.   I want her to make the most of her college years—to meet new people, build fresh friendships, join a campus ministry, find an awesome church, yell for touchdowns, cry for break-ups, cheer for first dates (and maybe second ones too!), go on late-night donut runs, early morning training runs, and even attend class and earn a useful degree.  Someday, not too soon, I hope she meets an amazing man and becomes a blissfully married wife and an absolutely amazed mom, but most of all, more than all, I want my girl to love Jesus—passionately, purposefully, and completely, and I hope that above all the things I have taught or she has caught, she knows first and best that Jesus is life.

And so on Saturday my daughter will don her cap and gown, parade across the stage, and receive a piece of paper that says she is ready to start the next stage of life.  If based only on what her parents have put in, I would say, “I hope so,” but because God’s unfailing love and unrelenting grace, I can say, with joyful heart and teary eyes, “I know so.”

Go, my precious girl.  Go boldly and be all God’s.

And know that your mom dearly loves you.

Friday, May 22, 2015

Grace



Today I am simply wallowing in grace.

Due to reasons that sound more like excuses, I haven’t read enough, prayed enough, or praised enough during the past few weeks.  My quiet times have been quick verses squeezed in between too little sleep and too much schedule, and my supplications have been sincere but short.  In other words, if I were checking the boxes on my Sunday School offering envelope (some of you know exactly what I’m talking about!), I might as well not even pick up the pen.

But here’s the good news:  I’m still God’s—just as much as if I had memorized all the Minor Prophets, fasted four days straight, and had a prayer and petition marathon.  God doesn’t love me any less for not doing those things, and He wouldn’t love me any more if I had done them. Of course there are benefits and blessings of intentional intimacy and connection with God (just as there are for every relationship we cherish and nurture), but I’m not any “more” God’s when I do those good things than when I don’t, and for such grace I am thankful on days like today.  And so I wallow.

Some of you may never have had the privilege of seeing a pig wallow in person.  It’s not always a pretty sight as a hog hunkers down in the mud, rolling to and fro on his back with his stumpy legs swaying side to side in the air and his head grinding back and forth in the mire to help him sink deeper and deeper into the dirty delight.  But the pig isn’t going for pretty; he’s aiming for comfort, contentment, and the feeling of being securely surrounded by something that feels amazingly good.  For a pig, that’s grime.  For me, it’s grace.

And so today, though it’s not a pretty sight, I hunker down in God’s grace, not standing on my own actions or attitudes but flat on my back looking up to Him, and I sink deeper and deeper into His divine delight.  And because I know that even on days when I do all the right and good things, it’s still His grace and His grace alone that makes me His and keeps me His, I am comforted, content, and feel securely surrounded by something that feels amazingly good—grace.  Amazing race that is greater than all our sin, and astounding grace that is bigger than all our best. 

Come wallow with me.  Grace is a great place to be.