East, West, North, and South

Here’s an interesting trivia question: Which states (of the United States) are the farthest North, East, West, and South? I’ll give you a hint: The answers are not four states; the correct answer contains fewer than four states. I’ll give you another hint: Fifty years ago, the answer would have been Maine (farthest North and farthest East), Florida (farthest South), and Washington State (farthest West), but none of those states are on the list now.
Okay, I’ll admit it, it’s actually a trick question. First of all, most of us that live in the contiguous United States (or lower forty-eight) have a bad tendency to forget about the other two states, Alaska and Hawaii. Even those that think about those two realize that Alaska is the farthest North, Hawaii is the farthest South, but usually aren’t sure which one is farther West, and even then, most of would never consider either one of them to be the farthest East. They are both West of the lower forty-eight, how could either one of them be considered the farthest East? The answer is that somewhere along the line, mapmakers decided that we needed an imaginary line that splits the Eastern Hemisphere from the Western Hemisphere. This line passes through Alaska. So, in general, if one stands and faces North, then to one’s left is West, and to one’s right is East. If one stands on that line in Alaska, though, then to one’s left is East, and to one’s right is West. One could be standing two feet on either side of that line, and the normal rules apply, but, since Alaska spans the two hemispheres, it is considered to be both the farthest East and the farthest West of all the United States. Of course, this is essentially due to convention; in any given person’s mind, when traveling in a westerly direction on a spherical planet like ours, one is always moving farther West, no matter how many imaginary lines one crosses, or even if one return’s to one’s original position.

Casting Crowns released a song awhile back that asks how far the East is from the West. The purpose for the question is because the Bible tells us that when God pardons a sin, He separates that sin from us as far as the East is from the West. I want to make it clear that, in that context, at least, God has no respect for our imaginary lines (it’s possible that He has no respect for our imaginary lines in any context, I’m not sure; to be honest, I don’t know of any context where He would respect longitudinal lines). He’s not talking about standing on an imaginary line and saying, “Okay, you’re on one side of the line, and your sins are on the other.” He’s not even talking about standing at the equator and removing your sins from you by a distance of 12,500 miles (approximately half the circumference of the earth at the equator). He’s really just saying that once He forgives you, and separates your sin from you as far, or farther, than you can possibly imagine. Once God separates you from your sin, you don’t have to ever worry about hearing about that sin from God again—unless you refuse to forgive someone else. You might be very surprised at how quickly God remembers everything you ever did wrong if you refuse to forgive someone else for what they did to you. It’s no accident that Jesus said that if we don’t forgive other men’s trespasses, then God wouldn’t forgive our trespasses either.

The Return

I have blogged before about falling from grace; it occurs to me that I should post something about the possibility of returning to grace.
Is it possible to return from a backslidden condition? One would certainly think that a loving God who created us, and has done so much to make it possible for us to be saved would understand the human condition and be understanding of human frailties that result in mistakes. He is, after all, a loving and forgiving God. If we stop to consider the parable of the lost sheep, how the shepherd left the ninety and nine to go search for the one that was lost. Wasn’t that one lost sheep part of the flock before that shepherd went to look for it? Didn’t Jesus say that the shepherd rejoices more for the one sheep that was lost than for the ninety-nine that weren’t? At first glance, that may not seem to make sense, but if you stop and think about it, the shepherd would have been so relieved that he found that sheep before some predator did. That is not to suggest that he would have willingly sacrificed the ninety-nine in order to save the one; quite frankly, it wouldn’t make sense to put even one of the ninety-nine at risk to try to find the one. The one may have already been killed before the shepherd even noticed it was gone. One sheep, off by itself, doesn’t stand much of a chance. Sheep don’t have much in the way of defense mechanisms; pretty much all they’ve got is staying with the flock. One off by itself is easy pickings for a wolf or lion. The Bible tells us that Satan is like a lion, seeking whom he may devour. He is looking for people who are not part of, or have become separated from, God’s flock. God is, of course, looking for those people, too, but He allows us freedom of choice. So, even when one has separated oneself from God, one still has a choice, whether to let God lead them back to the flock, or to stay off on their own where they become simply prey.
Is there a limit to how far God will allow us to go and still return? Jesus talked about things that one can do and still be forgiven, but he also said that there is one act that can never be forgiven. He even said that you can talk bad about Him, and it can be forgiven you. That’s pretty impressive, isn’t it? It seems to me, though, that most people that walk away from the truth end up getting caught up in their own wants and desires and end up not ever even attempting to return, anyway. These people are so involved with things that, in the long run, don’t really matter anyway. At the time, these things seem absolutely urgent, but from the perspective of eternity, really don’t matter. Quite frankly, if you take your eyes off of the prize, it is possible to become so distracted that you never look back at the ultimate gift again.

Living Beneath Our Privilege

Yesterday I posted about seeking first the Kingdom of God, and about how often God tries to do for us, and we just get in the way. It occurs to me that we live so far beneath or privilege. God wants us to have so much more than what we end up with. The Bible says that we have not because we ask not, and when we do ask, we ask amiss (James 4:3). Sometimes that’s as simple as not going to God in faith believing that He will give us the desires of our hearts. Sometimes he gave us those desires, to start with. How’s that for a conundrum: God lays something on my heart, but I don’t believe that it’s of God, so, even though it something I want to do, I don’t think it’s something that God wants me to do, so I try to push that out of my mind, and do what God wants me to do, only I’m really avoiding what God wants me to do. Wow. That even sounds confusing to me.
The point is, sometimes we don’t ask God, because we’re sure He’ll say no, before we even ask. Sometimes when we do ask, we feel so guilty, because we know what we’ve done, and we feel that we don’t deserve what we are asking for, even though we know that God has forgiven us, we don’t feel forgiven. Because we don’t feel forgiven, we go to God as if He hadn’t forgiven us. It’s kind of like asking dad for the car keys, when just this afternoon we got into trouble. Even if dad has forgiven us, we still kind of feel bad about asking. If we don’t ask, though, we can’t receive (of course, we may ask, and still not receive, but if we don’t ask, we definitely won’t receive), and if we ask, not expecting to receive, then we mess up our own chances.
One of the times that David got in trouble with God, God sent Nathan to remind David how much God had already given him, and then to say, “If that had been too little, I would moreover have given unto thee such and such things.” That always struck me as some kind of awesome. That particular instance, it seemed to me that David was being just a little bit greedy (well, maybe a lot greedy), but you notice God didn’t get angry with David for wanting more, only for not asking God for more, and just going out and taking what he wanted.
In the parable of the prodigal son, the Father tells the other son that he could have had, if he had only asked, “All that I have is thine.” The other son is the one who has been faithful all this time, but then when his brother returns, he gets miffed, as though his Father treats his miscreant brother better. The Father has to remind him that, all along, he has gotten exactly what he has asked for; no more, and no less.
Keep in mind, also, though, that Jesus set the example for us in the garden, when he said, “…not my will, but thine, be done.” He knew what was going to happen, and He understood why. He prayed that prayer to set the example for us. Sometimes we will ask for things, and the answer is just, “no,” because what we are asking for is not God’s will. Remember that Paul prayed three times to have a thorn removed from his flesh, but God told him that Paul needed that thorn. Sometimes, though, the answer will be, “Yes, I’m so glad you asked! I’ve been waiting for you to ask that!”
So how do you pray, in faith believing, if you aren’t sure that what you want is what God wants for you? Start out by asking God to help you to understand His will for your life, and ask Him for direction, even in your prayer life. Then work your way from there, remembering that God wants the best for you, even if sometimes you don’t know what that is.

What Does It Mean to Be Reprobate?

What does it mean to be reprobate? American Heritage Dictionary gives two definitions (as an adjective): 1. Morally unprincipled; shameless. 2. Rejected by God and without hope of salvation. To be honest, there isn’t a lot of difference between the two. If one is morally unprincipled and shameless, than one stands a very good chance of being rejected by God and left with no hope of salvation. If one is rejected by God, then one has no basis for moral principles, and so will become morally unprincipled and shameless. Please notice that there is a definite difference between being reprobate and being an atheist. If you’ve been paying attention, then you know that many atheists do have moral principles, which simply proves that, although they have rejected God, God has not rejected them (at least not yet). The term reprobate is used three times in the New Testament: Romans 1:28, 2 Timothy 3:8, and Titus 1:16.
Some examples from Scripture: the parable of the prodigal son has been brought up, but I don’t think that qualifies. The father never gave up hope that his son would return, and when the son did return, the father ran out to meet him. Clearly, the parable illustrates the relationship that God (the Father) has with us (His children). Many times we will slip away from the will of God, but He is patient with us. He will usually deal with us, and try to get us to return (in the parable, the father had nothing to do with the son’s misfortune, but sometimes God does prevent us from prospering when we seek our own will instead of His; but sometimes He just let’s us do what we want, and let us learn the hard way that material things never bring lasting satisfaction). Personally, I don’t think that the prodigal son represents a reprobate spirit—the Father did not reject him, even though he rejected the Father.
Esau is, perhaps, a better example. He sold his birthright for a bowl of stew. At the time, he had convinced himself that he was starving to death, so what good was his birthright? Some have said that Jacob took advantage of him (because Jacob knew that Esau wasn’t dying), but I think that Jacob did what God led him to do, but that’s a subject for another blog (this would get really long if I tried to get into that now). My main point here is that Esau found no space of repentance, though he sought it carefully. Of course, in Esau’s case, he wasn’t looking for salvation (he was looking for his inheritance, as the older son, but inheritance doesn’t always go to the older son—but our inheritance, as Christians, from our Father, is salvation), it’s just that when he realized what he had given up for a little bit of food, he tried to get his birthright back, even though he didn’t have anything that Jacob wanted nearly as bad as Esau had wanted those beans at the time. It is clear, however, that even though Esau’s state wasn’t really the state of a reprobate man, that the Scripture uses Esau’s situation as a warning to those who might become reprobate: God forgives (and He wants to forgive), but there are no guarantees that you will be able to find forgiveness if you just walk away. I have known far too many people that convinced themselves that they could do whatever they wanted, because God would forgive them, and ended up so far out there that they didn’t even want to be forgiven anymore.
The Pharaoh that refused to let the Israelites go (Ramesses II?) has been brought up. To be honest, I’m not sure that he qualifies, either, because, it seems to me, that you have to have been saved before you can be reprobate. Certainly Pharaoh had a reprobate attitude, and it even talks about God hardening his heart, which would suggest that God wasn’t trying to save Pharaoh, so that would indicate that God had rejected Pharaoh. There is some indication that Pharaoh knew who the true God was, but that he refused to bend his will to God’s, so maybe he really was reprobate. I guess it’s open to debate.

Hypocrites

Jesus didn't do a lot of name-calling when He walked the earth, but one insult that He used pretty regularly was, "Hypocrite." Alternate translations for the Greek word used would be dissembler, or pretender. To some extent, we've all been guilty of that, at one time or another. Much as I would like to pretend that I've never pretended to be something I'm not, that would hypocritical. Hypocrisy is not unforgivable, though, as much as Jesus railed against it. If you look at the times that He used that term, He used it to describe people that claimed to serve God, claimed to have knowledge of the Old Testament prophecies, and yet, did not recognize Jesus for who He was.

Most of us are more likely to get caught up in a different type of hypocrisy: one where God uses us to accomplish something, and then we walk around like we did something. Pride plays into this form of hypocrisy. Herod the King died because of his own pride. One instance where I almost fell for that, myself, I was hanging with some friends from church, and a couple of them were playing pool, and one guy walked away from the table, and the other guy invited me to play next. I walked over, picked out a reasonably straight cue, and ended up running the table. I tried not to look surprised--I had never run the table in my life (and I never have since). Later on, I found out that the guy that I played had beaten the other guy, badly, and then took pleasure in rubbing it in; so the guy that walked away from the table was praying that God would take the other guy down a notch. Had me puzzled for a while, because I knew I didn't do it, but I didn't understand what had happened.

There is, of course, forgiveness, at least, for those of us that are legitimately trying to let God use us. We have to be humble enough to understand that anything we do of any worth is God in us, and not ever just us. In writing this, I was reminded of a song by Rush of Fools called "Undo." The lyrics of the song make reference to the narrator(?) being a hypocrite and a prodigal, and he calls upon God to help to change, to "undo what I've become." This is something that we all need to do on a regular basis. Apostle Paul said, "I die daily." We have to keep slaying the old man, and renewing our dedication to God. It would be nice if we could just do it the one time and be done with it, but it keeps coming back. David (a man after God's own heart) once said, "I am a worm, and no man." That encourages me, because, so often I feel worse than useless, and I have to think that he felt the way I feel, and yet, in retrospect, he did so much for God (or, at least, allowed God to do so much through him).

BTW, the link for the lyrics for "Undo" above actually goes to another blog called "React less, Pray More" maintained by a young woman who identifies herself only as Ashley in Honduras (or AshInHonduras). There's some other good stuff on that blog entry besides just the lyrics...

Hold Fast, But Let Go

Yesterday morning's sermon title was "Hold On ... Let Go." The two main scriptures that my pastor used were Hebrews 10:23 and Hebrews 12:1. Hebrews 10:23 admonishes us to hold fast to the faith, while Hebrews 12:1 tells us to lay aside every weight and the sin which doth so easily beset us. His point was, of course, that we have to hold on to Jesus, but let go of anything that would keep us from doing what God would have us to do. He used the example of past experiences coming back to haunt. He spoke of an individual that had a particularly horrific experience, and had suffered for years as a result, and that, in counsel, my pastor had told this individual, "I'm not asking you to forget, I'm asking you to forgive." The man was dumbfounded. We throw around the phrase "forgive and forget" a lot, but, in reality, if somebody truly hurts us, we're not going to forget. Sometimes we are barely able to forgive.

I know that I have had incidents in my life that come back on me from time to time. Some of those instances I find very hard to forgive. One thing that makes it easier on me when those things come to remembrance is the realization that I can't take vengeance on them (and most of time that is quite literal--I'm angry at an individual that I haven't even seen in years), and the understanding that if God is anywhere near as angry at them for what happened as I am, then they are going to Hell. Is that what I want? No, really it's not. There is no one that I can think of, that, if I had the opportunity to choose, I would choose for them to go to Hell. There are some that I don't think I would want in Heaven, but not any that I would want to go the other place (and, no, I don't believe there are any other choices--one of these days, maybe I'll blog about purgatory, or the idea that after God destroys the earth, that He is going to re-create it as a new paradise, second only to Heaven itself, for those not quite good enough to go to Heaven).

Now, you may know people that you feel deserve to burn for eternity. I suspect some of you feel that way about someone (I have felt that way about some people in the past, but I got over it); realistically, if you sit down and really think it through, to have someone spend eternity in the worst possible torment... I don't think that's really what you want. If it is, then let me refer you to Matthew 5:22.

Even secular psychologists will tell you that by not forgiving someone, you are really only hurting yourself. All the anger in the world directed at someone else, only raises one's own blood pressure, increases one's own heartbeat, causes one's own mental anguish. Sometimes we really just have to let those things go. The term that is used for refusing to forgive is, 'self-destructive.'

I am reminded of something I read many years ago. Two men that worked in New York City rode the subway to work every morning, and every morning, one of them would stop and buy a paper at the only newsstand in between the subway station and the building that they both worked in, and the news vendor was always surly. The guy that bought the paper never seemed to let it bother him, but it drove his friend crazy; finally, one day he asked, "Why don't you ever get upset at the way that man treats you?" The reply: "Why should I let him determine my day?" I have wanted to be like that ever since I read that.

The Answer Is in Your Hands

There is an old legend about a wise old man who lived in a village, and a young man in the same village that decided to best the old man. "I'll show people that he's not so smart." So he took a bird, and he held the bird behind his back, with the bird's body in one hand, and it's head in the other. He then challenged the old man to tell him whether the bird was alive or dead; thinking that, if the old man answered that the bird was dead, he could produce the living bird, but if the old man answered 'alive,' then he could wring the bird's neck and produce the dead bird. The old man simply replied, "The answer is in your hands."

In John 8, the scribes and the pharisees brought a woman to Jesus who had been taken 'in the very act' of adultery, and asked him whether they should stone her. He stooped down and started writing on the ground, as if he didn't hear them. Eventually He made the now-famous statement, "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her."

There are all kinds of subtleties to this situation: First of all, if she was taken in the very act, shouldn't there have been another participant? It's doggone difficult to commit adultery alone. Secondly, what was it He was writing in the dirt? Third, if they really wanted to see justice done, why were they coming to Him, and not to the established legal system? (of course, the passage answers that question: they came to Him specifically so that they could make an accusation against Him) What accusation were they trying to concoct? Wouldn't they have expected Jesus to commend the law of Moses?

All right, let's take this one step at a time: First, where was the man? I can only speculate; the Bible doesn't say. Let me suggest that it isn't really important, the point of the story is to teach us forgiveness. As far as my personal opinion, I suspect that he was standing right there with a stone in his hand. Consider for a moment, that the whole idea here was to find some excuse to accuse Jesus of something. That means that these religious people went looking for an adulteress, and were fortunate enough to catch one red-handed. How did they know where to look for one? I suspect that they had a pretty good idea where to find one, because they had each sought out such a woman in the past. When they found her, she was with one of their own--but that didn't matter, because the object of the exercise was to get Jesus (it's been said that Jews do not recognize Jesus as the Messiah, Protestants don't recognize the Pope as the leader of the Christian church, and Southern Baptists don't recognize each other at Hooters; not to suggest that Southern Baptists are really any different than the rest of us--but I think that the Pharisees must have had that mindset as well--it's human nature to overlook the faults of one's friends).

Second, what did He write? Again, pure speculation, the Bible doesn't say. It was probably something very personal to the men standing in judgment. One thing that has been suggested: It was a list of the names of the woman's accusers, with recently committed sins (possibly even dates and times that they had been with her). After all, He was God manifest in the flesh, He would have known these things, but, it might have been a greater show of power than He was willing to give them. Someday, I'll get a chance to ask Him, in person (and He may just tell me that I don't need to know).

Third, the accusation. This is the part that most people don't get. Under the law of Moses, she should have been stoned. However, Israel was under Roman occupation. Adultery was not a capital crime under Roman law. As a matter of fact, stoning was not allowed under Roman rule (why do you think that the Pharisees didn't just take Jesus out and stone Him?); that would have been considered murder. If Jesus had said, "Stone her," then they could have accused Him to the Romans of not obeying Roman law. If He had simply said, "Let her go," then they could have accused Him to the people of Israel as not respecting the law of Moses. They figured that, either way He answered, they could get Him in trouble with somebody. They didn't really care who.

Again, this isn't really important. The important thing was that it was a lesson in forgiveness. None of us are perfect, each of us will need forgiveness at various times along our journey. We have to be willing to forgive others. That's not always easy, but if we understand that even those people that we have the hardest time getting along with are not that mush different from ourselves, and that, in some ways, forgiving others is forgiving one's self. Can you forgive others? The answer is in your hands.