Called Out, Called Into

"Do not mistreat an alien [also translated "foreigner" or "stranger" or "sojourner"] or oppress him, for you were aliens in Egypt." (Exodus 22:21)

It is pretty natural to respond to injustice with similar injustice, hurting others as we have been hurt.  Now that they were out of slavery, it would have been pretty natural for the Israelites to have mistreated or oppressed the aliens among them.  But God called them to a different standard, to a new way of life.  He called them out of the established order of things and into His design.

God calls us to the same -- to a life of both experiencing His grace and extending it to others.

Little By Little

When I was young, perhaps five or six years old, we adopted a dog named Bear.  Bear was a mix of Samoyed and Great Pyrenees breeds -- all white, quite large, and very strong.  I was excited to have a dog again and, of course, wanted to be the one holding the leash as we walked to the car.  Somehow I talked my way into that, promising to hold on really, really tight and not let go.  And, true to my word, that is what I did.  The dog hadn't committed to anything, though, and took off down the street in an unfamiliar town, with me determinedly holding tight and desperately trying to keep up.  It became abundantly clear to me in those moments that I could handle a dog this size only if the dog agreed, and he clearly hadn't done that.

On a related note...

God had brought the Israelites out of Egyptian slavery after they had lived in Egypt for hundreds of years.  Now they were out on their own and needed to become established in ways that would help them to live and function together as a people.  There was much instruction given, and with many associated promises.  Among those were God's promises to guide them and to give them the land.  Unlike the escape from Egypt, though, this one would be more gradual, for "Little by little I will drive [the people living in the land] out before you, until you have increased enough to take possession of the land" (Exodus 23:30).

Like a six-year-old girl with an unwieldy eighty-pound dog, the Israelites were not fully ready for the land that would be theirs.  They would need to work their way up to it, beginning with just a portion and expanding from there.  They needed to grow into it.

It reminds me of the biblical instruction to be faithful in the "little" things, for only those who are faithful with a little can be trusted with more.  This idea is common in talking about stewardship of material goods, but is relevant to far more.  I think today of relationships and of ministries, and of conversations.  When I desire greater depth in relationships, greater impact in ministries, greater authenticity in conversations, it is worth considering how I choose to respond in those I have already.

I don't want to settle for superficial relationships rather than doing the work of pursuing depth.  I don't want to settle for mediocre ministry rather than investing both wisely and wholeheartedly for greater impact.  I don't want to settle for lame conversations rather than showing up as myself and inviting others to do the same.

God has much in store.  Let's be faithful with what we have, and become ready for the rest.

But God...

At the home of friends, I saw a small poster with the words "but God...!" and a scripture reference.  I was interested, and made a mental note to look up the verse.

And then... I forgot it.

It came to mind again several times in the months following, so I finally did a search at Bible Gateway.  Turns out the phrase comes up around sixty times in the NIV.

Sixty is a decently large number.  "But" is a conjunction, connecting two thoughts with contrast and often suggesting something contrary to expectation.  I've been sitting with that awhile now.  It seems to describe God pretty well -- unpredictable, unexpected, unwilling to fit in the safe little boxes I sometimes foolishly create for Him in my mind.

Perhaps I'll take a little trip through the "but God" passages, and see what I find there.

Challenging Grace

Saul was a devoted and disciplined man, thoroughly committed to the task he had taken on -- persecuting anyone he could find that followed Jesus.  Then, while traveling one day, he suddenly hit a crisis time when he encountered God, lost his sight, and was instructed to wait.

Meanwhile, a man named Ananias didn't know these details of the story.  He just knew the part about Saul coming after people like him.  God spoke to Ananias, too -- not to tell him the whole story or the outcome, but to give him just enough, which was mostly some really challenging instructions.

What happened next seems pretty miraculous to me:  "Then Ananias went to the house [where Saul was] and entered it.  Placing his hands on Saul, he said, 'Brother Saul, the Lord... has sent me so that you may see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit.'"

Seriously, amazingly miraculous!  "Then Ananias went to the house [where Saul was] and entered it.  Placing his hands on Saul, he said, 'Brother Saul, the Lord... has sent me so that you may see again and be filled with the Holy Spirit.'"

In faith, Ananias sought out one who had been expressing "murderous threats."

In faith, Ananias drew close to Saul and reached out to touch him.

In faith, Ananias addressed Saul as "brother."

In faith, Ananias conveyed blessings that God had planned for Saul -- of sight and of the Holy Spirit.

Ananias had strong reasons to avoid Saul, to remain distant in every way, to address him as enemy, to rain down curses.  But when God called, Ananias acted in faith and obedience.  And "immediately, something like scales fell from Saul's eyes, and he could see again.  He got up and was baptized, and after taking some food, he regained his strength."

Saul regaining his sight is pretty significant.  But what captures me today is how God chose to work through the person of Ananias, and how Ananias agreed to join in.  Today I am captured again by grace, and challenged again to join wholeheartedly with God in the "ministry of reconciliation."

(The story of Saul and Ananias is found in Acts 9:1-19.)

-- Debi

Good Friday

Good Friday is a somber day, remembering Jesus’ death by crucifixion.  I remember trying to explain it to a former co-worker several years ago, something like this:  “It is a time to remember and honor the death of Jesus, so Good Friday services are usually like a funeral.”  But that doesn’t seem quite right, because I haven’t been to a lot of funerals as persistently somber and dark as Good Friday.  Perhaps the mood of a typical Good Friday service isn’t like a funeral so much as it’s like a funeral would have been if Jesus had stayed in the tomb.  In Good Friday and the day following, we acknowledge the despair of the time between the certainty of Jesus’ death and the hope-giving miracle of his resurrection.

I am grateful for Good Friday because life still includes times when everything seems to be turned upside down, hopes dashed, outcome uncertain, salvation not yet apparent.  We celebrate the joy of Christ’s birth at Christmas, and his resurrection on Easter – these are absolutely foundational to Christian hope.  It is good, too, to respect the in-between times.

Editing History?

Mark found a 13-digit number in our family room today and we wondered about it.  I looked it up as an ISBN search -- no luck with that, but I did find an interesting link:

Screenshot

It's the "edit your history" part that caught my attention.  Sometimes I wish there were an "edit my history" link for life.  There are things I regret, things I've said and done that I wish I could go back and undo, things I regret having not said or done.

Life doesn't have such a button, so I want to choose my words and actions well.

There is something else here, too -- the gift of grace.  Because of God's grace, I don't need to edit or block history.  I have a God and some friends with whom I can be open about where I've been, acknowledging what I wish were different about it without pretending it didn't happen.

Healthy honesty helps me to move forward in the right direction and at peace.

Christmas Season: Second Sunday

In our culture, we tend to build up to Christmas and then move on to the new year on December 26. Traditionally, though, the celebration has been carried on in various ways for eleven more days. January 2 is the second Sunday of the Christmas Season. Here are the lectionary readings:
Jeremiah 31:7-14
Psalm 147:12-20
Ephesians 1:3-14
John 1:1-18
You can read them here.