Rats and Sinking Ships

"Like rats leaving a sinking ship." While I certainly never want to bear the label "rat," I've never quite understood why this is intended to be negative or bad simile. Whether it's merely legend or there are scientific evidences to prove that rats really do get off a ship before it will go down into the depths of the sea, I don't really care. Apparently this phenomenon has been observed in the past, and if God gave some innate foreknowledge to these rodents to recognize when to get out of a troubled situation, I've got to say I'm impressed.

Too often, in the Church at large, I think we make plans of our own and then ask God to bless them, rather than first asking Him what he wants us to do so that we and others might be blessed and he'll be honored. I know I've been guilty of that behavior when planning events or even preparing a Bible study. I start at the wrong end.

"God, this is what we're going to do (or study about). Please make it all work out great. Thanks."

I've been under the leadership of others that I thought I saw and/or felt the same thing, too. I looked around and saw trouble, disharmony and confusion, causing me to wonder if God had even been consulted about the idea.

Instead, I believe God's saying, "You know, what you're doing is nice, but what I really wanted was _____. It would have saved you a lot of headache and I'd have been much more pleased and glorified."

So for all those human-inspired plans, for all those self-directed ideas, I hope I will be sensitive to the Holy Spirit and intuitive enough to always be a "rat!"

Legacies

No one else so completely sold himself to what was evil in the Lord’s sight as Ahab did under the influence of his wife Jezebel. 1 Kings 21:25

I know I've read this sentence before, probably many times, but as I read it today, it was as though I'd never seen it. What horrible legacies - for Ahab and Jezebel.

Ahab, according to this verse, was more completely "sold out" to evil than any other person in history. That means he even beats Hitler for the title of "Most Insane Madman of All Time". Wow. I generally put Adolf at the bottom of the barrel, if you know what I mean. First Kings 16:25 says Omri, Ahab's father, "did what was evil in the Lord’s sight, even more than any of the kings before him." Five verses later in 1 Kings 16:30, Ahab has out-done his dad: "But Ahab son of Omri did what was evil in the Lord’s sight, even more than any of the kings before him." However, none of the succeeding kings of the Northern Kingdom of Israel are recorded by Scripture as being worse than Ahab. In fact, although none of them led Israel back to God, a few are remembered in this way:"He did what was evil in the Lord’s sight, but not to the same extent as the kings of Israel who ruled before him" (2 Kings 17:2).

Ahab's legacy - the guy who was committed to evil more than everyone or anyone else.

And then there's Jezebel. I always think of her as the only person Ahab had in his life, and thus, because of loneliness, he was easily influenced by her (besides Elijah, whose job was to tell him how wrong he was). But I read today he had seventy sons (2 Kings 10:1). Clearly, he had some other "relationships" that could have had an impact on his character. Yet, it was her influence to which he submitted. I can't begin to imagine what an overpowering personality she must have had, how domineering and demanding she was. Yet, there's a creepy sense of twisted loyalty to him that must have maintained his attraction to her. Case in point: when Ahab wants a piece of property, she arranges for the owner to be falsely accused and murdered so her husband can take possession of the land. How touching. And I thought I wanted pearls for our wedding anniversary.

For 22 years these two reigned with terror, duplicity and wickedness. It begs the question: "Why would God allow them to be on the throne for so long?" I think the answer is two-fold. First, God sent Elijah and other prophets to redirect Ahab and the kingdom back to himself, but their efforts were declined. Second, while we might want to blame Ahab and Jezebel for all the "bad," they were merely the leaders. The nation chose to follow them. And a nation indulgent in its life of sin will at some point endure the consequences of its behavior. Just as God set the law of gravity in motion, the law of consequences must result, too. True, the same God who set out those laws can supercede them at any time, but it doesn't mean he will or should.

Much has been written about the US's moral decline since the 1950s and Rock n' Roll. The 60s and the introduction of the drug culture, the 70s and the dissolution of the family, the 80s and the advent of parachute pants (Hey, I'm a child of the 80s; they were a great time except for the hair), the 90s and the decay of tradition.... But the truth is we live in a fallen world that has been this way for a long time. Prostitution existed even before Jesus was born. Murder has an ancient history (see Cain and Abel). Abandonment and abuse of family are not new phenomenon.

So while I'd love to see our nation revive to believe and live out the motto of "One Nation Under God," the fact is our Judeo-Christian foundations are rotting away. Not because of one person or party in office, but because sinful humanity exists, corrupting and dismantling the principles of truth and holiness.

So where does that leave us?

I can't "fix" the government, the state, the county, the city, or even my street. But I can fix things at my address and within my heart. When I read about Ahab and Jezebel I can't help but wonder what would be said about me if the pages of Scripture were still being written. I hope it would say: "No one else so completely sold herself to what was right in the Lord’s sight as Julie did under the influence of the Holy Spirit" 1 Ideals 1:1.

God, make that my legacy.

Outlet

I really need to do more writing. I've had a collection of thoughts floating around in my brain for half a month, and now they're a discombobulated mess. (I've been looking all week for a chance to use the word discombobulated.) When I get stuck in the hustle and bustle of life and can't find order in my chaos, I find I frequently forget to use and enjoy the outlets God has given me, even hard-wired into me - namely music and writing.

It's like a runner who has forgotten the pleasure of running because he's too concerned about the condition of the track, his shoes and the weather. I've been focusing on the externals and neglecting the outlets for dealing with those externals.

I read a statement this morning in one of those "forward to 10 friends" emails (no, I did not send it on), that actually stuck with me: "I asked God for all things that I might enjoy life. God said, "No, I will give you life, so you may enjoy all things." I don't know that there's a specific biblical reference for this concept, but I think it's realistic enough to be something God might have said. He is the "giver of every good and perfect gift," and Jesus came that we "might have life, and have it abundantly."

In the midst of "doing" life, I sometimes forget about living it. And I really think that looks a little different for everyone, but for me, anyway, it means experiencing his calling and pleasure in doing the things he's ordained and/or gifted me to do. Eric Liddell, of Chariots of Fire fame, told his sister, "when I run I feel His pleasure." When I write, or sing and play the piano, I have that same sensation, and the world comes into clearer focus, too. The problems are pigeon-holed, the uncertainties calmed, and God's size and ability are correctly seen in perspective.

So, thanks for being a part of my outlet, today. I hope you'll enjoy his pleasure sometime today, too.

Misery and Miracles

"Nothing almost sees miracles but misery," C.S. Lewis wrote.

Jesus healed the blind, removed demons from those possessed, cleansed lepers and calmed storms. But in order for those miracles to occur, someone had to live in darkness, uncontrollable misery, extreme loneliness and in real and present fear of danger and death.

I recently finished reading The Hiding Place, Corrie Ten Boom's account of life as a Jewish sympathizer and protector in the 1930s and 40s Nazi-occupied Holland. For her sympathetic actions, she and several family members were incarcerated at Nazi prisons and ultimately concentration camps.

I love Corrie's reality-laden take on those experiences. She doesn't sugar-coat them with "and God made it so much better." She gets honest about how awful things really were; how she felt hate for the enemies, despised the conditions, and was nauseated at the sights and smells. At the same time, a quiet, still faith flowed within her in the midst of those circumstances. And in that misery, because of faith in a loving, powerful God, miracles occurred.

Some of the miracles she never actually requested or articulated. A bottle of vitamin water for her sister--and shared with countless other women--which never ran empty until the day new vitamins became available through another source. Merciful police officers and lieutenants who arranged secret meetings for she and other family members. The presence of lice among prisoners which kept away German soldiers, allowing the inmates to hold prayer and worship services. Genuine, yet inexplicable fits of coughing which kept soldiers from frisking them and discovering the hidden copies of the Bible hanging around their necks. "Accidental" papers of her release signed and authenticated, when in fact, every woman in her age group was murdered in the following weeks.

Miracles, no doubt. But from depths of pain and misery few people ever know. As we suffer and grieve this side of eternity, we often ask God for his handiwork to prove powerful. We beg for miracles. But the truth is we naturally shirk from the pain and agony of life. I wonder how often I've prevented a God-sized miracle in my own life, by manipulating my circumstances away from what I perceive to be a greater pain, settling for my own version of a man-made "miracle" (the simple fact I avoided what I thought I wanted to get out of).

Salvation by grace through faith is probably considered the greatest miracle of all time. That a sinless man would offer all of himself to the point of death, for a humanity who would daily mock his pain in countless ways is unfathomable. That we'd be given the opportunity to establish relationship with him and a perfect God is equally incredible. From the depths of our sinful misery, a miracle.

Remember the Spirit

For me, there's a fine line between wisdom and cynicism. Wisdom says, "If I walk under that tree, a bird might relieve itself on me." Cynicism says, "The bird will." (Kind of a Murphy's Law way-of-life.)

I've struggled between the two lately. I've often waivered dangerously close to pessimism, preferring to call myself a realist. But when the well is as dry as it's been for me spiritually over the last couple of months, I find myself less realistic and more un-optimistic.

I can't really put my finger on when or why this drought started. Definitely after Easter. Maybe that's the way the disciples felt. The glory and thrill of Christ's Resurrection was followed by the cold reality of living without his daily presence. Jesus knew how desperately they (and we) would need the Spirit. He said, "the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all that I said to you" (John 14:26).

My problem is failing to remember he's even there -- which is an indictment on myself. Paul was writing to the Galatians and to me when he said: "Let me ask you this one question: Did you receive the Holy Spirit by obeying the law of Moses? Of course not! You received the Spirit because you believed the message you heard about Christ. How foolish can you be? After starting your Christian lives in the Spirit, why are you now trying to become perfect by your own human effort? Have you experienced so much for nothing? Surely it was not in vain, was it?" (3:2-4).

Unfortunately, in my life and practice, too often the Spirit is waiting for me to surrender to him, let him take my thoughts and make them practical, Christ-like actions. Instead, I'm trying to muster up "holiness" in my own efforts. How vain, how foolish.

I think it's interesting that Jesus' next statement after assuring us of the presence of the Spirit, is, "Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful."

I doubt Jesus' statements were coincidental in arrangement. Probably if I'd remember have the option of consulting the Spirit and let him have control of my thoughts about and reactions to life, then maybe the line between wisdom and cynicsm wouldn't be so fine for me and peace would be much less elusive. And even if the bird in the tree relieves itself on me, I'll receive it with laughter and chalk one up for the bird (and immediately go shower).