The Ultimate Measure Of Me

During a sleepless hour last night it dawned on me that I was working really hard at getting life right – praying enough, walking in the Spirit enough, supporting people enough, making enough money--you know, enough. After all, once you know what to do (and that should certainly be me), shouldn’t you simply do it? Isn’t how you do the ultimate estimate?

No, it isn’t. Oops. How Jesus did when He lived as a man is the ultimate measure of me.

I forget that the ongoing measurement of my life, the way I am seen, the way I am estimated and the way I am judged is not singularly dependent upon me—Jesus became all of that for me. Everyday and all day I am living with His righteousness, His holiness, and His redemption. All that He accomplished has been given to me as my own.

Sheesh--that’s overwhelming. But shouldn’t it be?

I don’t regularly count on Jesus’ righteousness and holiness to do anything for me, other than secure my standing and destination. How dumb! When I remember what He did and gave me, my faith rises and my strength grows. All that ugly judgment I sometimes endure from the evil one and from my flesh vanishes. I can live again. And I’m reminded that faith isn’t just a bunch of important stuff I believe (make sure my file is up-to-date and complete), but a way by which life and strength and the Spirit work in me, a son of God.

That’s my day and that’s my night. Jesus for me and Jesus in me – my hope of great things (Col 1:27).

A Moody Nitpicker?

Is God fickle? Is He a nitpicker? Can you put Him in a generous mood or make Him stingy? Is it possible that He might be the Grand Benefactor on Monday, but the Cosmic Scrooge on Tuesday?

The Corinthians wondered, and sometimes I do too.

The church at Corinth would have been my favorite place to visit. I’m not sure I would have become a member, but man, it was a happenin’ place. The members’ behavior swung wildly from wanton worldliness to high holiness and back again. They were as neat and tidy as a two year old with a bowl full of spaghetti, but they were truly alive!

Naturally, they were aware that the apostle Paul, a sort of spiritual daddy, knew all about their sloppiness. Paul knew of their ugly failures and fleshly frailties, and they were afraid that he wouldn’t come to be with them because they were often bad. “Will Paul, the one who loves us so deeply, draw away from us? Will he go somewhere else, to people who are better than us?” they might have asked. “We’re so awful—why would he want to come here?”

Knowing their fears, Paul essentially told them: “Are you kidding? I brag about you! And God fills me with grace and love toward you—how can I help but want to be with you like He does? I’m crazy about you! Didn’t I make that clear by my first letter? I did mean to come, but I was working through some personal things with God, so it wasn’t a good time for me to visit. But my heart for you is like God’s—it’s always ‘Yes!’ And that makes sense when you consider that God has secured us the same way: He has brought us into Christ, fully blessed, fully belonging to Him, with God Himself living in us as the Guarantor of what is to come. He has done it all, and He keeps doing it all! Isn’t He amazing? It was Him who sent me to you in the first place. Do you think His heart has changed toward you now that you are His? Impossible! You’re in Christ, and since that’s where you are, everything is ‘Yes!’ for you. Can I get a Corinthian ‘Amen’?” (2 Cor 1:12-2:11)

Amen!

I’m glad Paul raised the Corinthian question, “Are you a moody nitpicker?” to the highest level. “God, when things don’t go according to how it seems they should, have you left me because I’ve done something wrong? Do my failures drive you away and cancel grace?” The answer is: “Never!” Weakness and failure set the table for grace—it is best seen where it is most obvious. May I remind you? This was the theme of Paul’s life—mine, too. Paul delighted in his own weaknesses and inabilities, he boasted about the insults that wounded him because he found something through them: God is forever faithful and full of grace! (2 Cor 12:8-10)

God has plenty of motivation to be with us—He doesn’t need more, and He doesn’t need convincing. He’s the One who loves and behaves perfectly—have you forgotten? I know it’s not easy to believe because it seems too fantastic! But that’s the gospel that the devil keeps trying to move you away from. If you’ve wandered away, as I sometimes do, wander back.

You’re better off than you think.

Obedience For Dogs & Me

My daughter has a Nintendo DS. Yes, my wife and I actually chose to give it to her for Christmas. What evil thing does that say about us?! Hmm…

Anyway, she has this game where she gets and trains puppies, raising them from puppiness through adultness. To do it, she gives them behavioral commands like “Lie down!” and “Sit!” and “Roll over!” Sometimes the Nintendo dogs obey, and sometimes they don’t, which provokes my daughter to say it again—a little more strongly. It’s funny because not only does she speak with clarity and deep authority (well, at least it sounds pretty convincing for a girl her age), but our own dog, sitting next to her, carries out the commands. Well, some of the commands.

And I wondered, “If my daughter said those commands with an encouraging tone, a really upbeat inflection, would the dogs follow through and obey more readily or less?” And that got me thinking.

What if I thought of God’s commands to me as wonderful, life-securing and encouraging orders, instead of grumpy and foreboding demands? I mean, I know God is always correct and spot-on in His assessment of everything, so why does my fleshly mind attach a doom and gloom tone to His directions? Does the Spirit talk to me in the same manner as He would to, say, Pharaoh? Jezebel? Nebuchadnezzar? Or, how about to the devil? Same way?

If I was hanging out with Pharaoh one day and God showed up with something to say, would His commands to me sound the same as those to Pharaoh? Of course, I suppose we’d have to make certain exceptions for content. “Pharaoh, you brutal subjugator of my people, take out the trash...and then go to Sheol.” And, turning to me, “Ralph, you greatly favored, heaven-bound son of mine, take out the trash.” Would it all sound the same?

I don’t think so.

There are those who think obedience is the most important part of the Christian life—I’m not one of them. I think believing God is first. And while the obedience-is-king crowd might say, “Well, of course believing is first,” I don’t think they really mean it, especially because they often come across as stern and dour; as the obedience monitors among us. They major in it, and we’ve noticed.

I think the reason many of us fail to obey the New Testament commands of God is because we think they come to us from a sort of high school principal—Do this, Ralph, and you won’t get into trouble. So, the only thing I believe at that moment is, “Well, I’d better do it, or I’ll get detention.” See what I mean? My belief is in avoiding the consequences of disobeying authority, not in the brilliance and well-intentioned motives of the trustworthy principal. Sounds like a dog’s life. To be certain, obedience is a vital, indispensable part of Christian life, but why we obey is, I believe, even more important.

So, today I’m doing what God says to do because it’s coming from my Father, who is perfect in love, perfect in knowledge and grace, and perfect in how He sees and treats me. I have a pretty good idea of what He did for me and to me through Christ, and I have a decent idea of what He thinks of me. It’s pretty fantastic.

He’s amazing, and He’s amazing toward me—I believe that, and I believe Him. Obedience comes from there.

Fred Barnes Has Left The Building

Here's a good piece by a man I admire, Fred Barnes.

I knew he was a believer, but I didn't know it like I know it now.

I found this on one of the blogs I read, Steve Addison. Click here for a good read.

Worry-Worts & Radar

(Before reading this blog, you should know that my family and I speak of the Biblical term flesh as the monster, and believe it is not us, but something in us. We’ve been born again and made new creations, sons of God. Sometimes the flesh has us and influences us, but it is not us.)


My daughter worries, and she’s figured it out. It’s like she’s got radar—not Gary Burghoff, Radar—but a radar system that regularly alerts her for something being wrong with someone around her or with herself. And it goes off a lot.

Recently she said, “Daddy, I’m a worry-wart,” and here’s what I thought: “You know, she is. She’s always got something negative to be concerned about, always some wrong or some bad that gets her attention. What a worry-wart. I should tell her to trust God…” As I prepared to blurt out a confirmation (you are a worry-wart) followed by a healthy prescription (trust God), I nevertheless took the briefest of pauses, hesitating ever so slightly to see if the Spirit might interject something. Low and behold, He did.

She’s no worry-wart. She is often plagued by it, but it’s not her; it’s something against her.

Shocked into the reality I cannot see, I said, “Emma, my girl, do you think that worry comes from you, or does it come at you?” Because I wanted her to think and, in so doing, sow to the Spirit, I said no more. She answered, “It comes from the monster. It comes from my flesh—but I’m not flesh. Then, Daddy, why do I worry so much?”

“Well,” I replied, “it isn’t your fault. Our monsters are really monstrous, aren’t they? Everybody’s is. But what you and I get to see is God in us, smacking the monster for us. Remember how to think or talk toward Him when you feel all that fight going on inside? It’s fun to find Him in there, isn’t it?” Pulling her onto my lap, I said, “Come on. Let’s find Him inside together.” She wiggled her little body into a comfortable spot, and I prayed, “Jesus, Emma and I believe you’re in us right now. We feel the fight you’re having with the monster. Would you put it in its place and would you do what you love to do in us, and make peace and trust and love more obvious than fear? Emma and I don’t like the battle inside, but we know what to do about it. Thanks for living in us…” And Emma said softly, “Amen.”

Think that was a good moment?

I don’t want Emma to get overwhelmed by confusing her flesh with herself, which means I have to make that distinction, too. That confusion is so destructive, the effects stretching out like roots to touch everything they can. Not only might she come to believe she is what God believes she is not, but she might come to act upon it and live out her days trying to conquer herself…or give in and give up. And that can stretch through families and friends—even to generations.

I know there are many who think of themselves as the flesh and that they are the monster that produces all the crappy thoughts and desires within. They don’t think of themselves as having become sons of God, now spirit, and not flesh any longer. So when the flesh and the Spirit are at war within them (Gal 5), they think the battle is theirs to resolve. And, misidentifying themselves as flesh, that usually means they get verbally beat up, if only in their minds—You idiot! What a loser! What kind of Christian are you, anyway?! Rather than sow to the Spirit, who would produce what Jesus is like in them (the fruit of the Spirit), they fight the flesh—and that’s no way to live.

Emma has radar of a sort that not everyone else has. Hers looks one way (awareness of need, injustice, ill health, etc.), and yours and mine look another. Perhaps you can’t stand it if people aren’t comfortable and cared for (hospitality), if their needs aren’t met (mercy), etc. In any case, sowing to the Spirit in light of your particular radar (and when it goes off) is how to live. You and I aren’t supposed to do something about everything we see and feel—God in us would love to do something instead. When our own radar goes off, alerting us, we don’t do something by the flesh, we sow to the Spirit to see what He would like to do. He might produce love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness or self-control. His life might mean you do something, and it might mean you do nothing. In either case, you’ll be living by the Spirit and not fulfill the lusts of the monster. And Christ in you will be the delight of your life.

If Emma didn’t learn to live by the Spirit and not by the flesh, she’d look and feel like a worry-wart all her days, even while an indwelt daughter of God. We’re working to help her live as she is, not as she feels, by faith, and not by feel.

That means God gets to use her radar as something life-giving, and it means that she won’t get abused by her radar. What a difference.

Introducing The King of Kings!

Have you ever introduced a guest, a relative, or a special speaker and knew you needed to really do it right? The pressure was on because your guest was worth a great intro?

I don't know anything about comedian Steve Harvey, but I sure like what he does in this clip. In front of thousands of people, he pretends to introduce Jesus Christ.

It's a blast.

Easter Is Everything

I look sick, I sound sick and I feel sick. Other than that I'm perfectly fine.

In honor of my sickishness, I hereby defer to those who have better things to say today than I have. I have a lot to say about all things Easter (as you would expect), but the aches in my body and the fuzz in my head require downtime.

Here's an excellent post by a great writer and friend, Steve McVey. I regularly visit what he's got going on his web site and blog. Oh, and he's on facebook, too.

Just below is an excerpt of the article:

"The message of Easter is that Jesus Christ has drawn us into Himself and settled the issue of our worth once and for all. You were in Christ on the cross and everything about you that would have debilitated you in terms of reaching the potential God intends for you was done away with there. You were buried with Him and on the third day, you arose with Him - full of resurrection life. Now the essence of who you are is Him."

Click here to continue reading.

Can't Resist

Okay, the truth is that I don't want to resist.

My warped sense of humor has always been a sure guide for me, leading me to embarrassment and scorn. It really works for me!

Here's a comic you might enjoy. I do. It reminds me of how we nibbled and tortured various Easter candy animals a long time ago. Ah, memories.

A Holy Day--Not A Pretty Day

Here's a pretty great article about the meaning of this Friday--the shedding of blood in preparation for the coming resurrection.

It's found on a blog I read. Click on the link below and off you go.

http://teampyro.blogspot.com/2009/04/holy-day-not-pretty-day.html#links

A Fantastic Exchange

Here's a short video that works out what Easter is about. It's from across the pond, so get your accent-o-meter going.


THAT'S EASTER Life to Death from St Helen’s Church on Vimeo.

Repenting Of Ace Ventura

Have you ever wanted to beat someone up for their own good? Give ‘em a good whop! across the kisser to wake them up to something great? I have.

Maybe you’ve shown someone a painting or poem you loved, played for them a song that moved you, or told someone of an enchanting discovery only to have them respond with a disinterested, “Um, that’s nice.” How did you feel in that moment? “Hmm…a good whop! might be just the thing…”

Have you ever wanted to beat someone up for Jesus? I have.

There have been times when I have presented the incredible truth of the gospel to someone and have them look as dull when I was done as they did when I began. And I don’t mean only the get-‘em-in-the-door, turn-or-burn gospel, I mean the stunning good news about who they will become in Christ gospel, and the how well related to God they will become gospel. And when I arrive at a good place to stop, either they look like it’s nap time, or like it’s all unimportant. “Well, I’m glad that works for you,” they say.

And what fills my imagination is from one of those silly Pet Detective movies. Suddenly, I’m Ace Ventura (Jim Carrey), and with an exaggerated nod and toothy grin, I hear myself say, “R-e-a-l-l-y......R-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-a-l-l-y…” And--Whop! They had it comin’. And then I see myself doing that silly, jerky, walk-away, grinning big as life. “Turn me down, will you? Ha! Loo-hoo-hoo-ser!”

It’s about then that I come to my senses and repent of Ace Ventura.

Sometimes my fleshly desires get way too involved in the mystery of closing the gospel deal, or of changing someone else. What was once great news to share becomes my story that must be accepted. I forget that I didn’t convince myself about the gospel, nor am I particularly skilled at changing myself, so when I begin practicing on others (Dr. Ralph) I ought to be alarmed.

What’s happened is that I have lost the thrill and confidence of God-in-charge, God-at-work, and God-never-failing. Awe of Him has been superseded by frustration with this world, and sometimes that happens all too easily to me. Joy in God’s ability has been hijacked by a fleshly desire to make life work, mine and yours, and the soon-coming end of that is exhaustion and disappointment. Either I get all worked up—We have to DO something!—or I get all depressed and give up.

It’s right around then that the Holy Spirit reminds me that I am an ambassador of God, not a general. I’m a vessel and messenger for God, not a detective bent on exposing the bad things of this world so I can change them. He reminds me because He is looking to revive and refresh me so I can live and work in the power of God, not in the power of the flesh.

And I can’t imagine Ace Ventura leading anyone to Jesus anyway.

More To The Story

This video is an example (albeit a gross one) of what focusing upon the visible, temporal arena can do to us--it will make you judge too soon and in error. If, in fact, you've been born from above, then the invisible, spirit realm is what's most real for you. The apostle Paul literally commands us to set our focus there (Colossians 3:1-4) because that's what's true and that's where we're found! And that's how we live by faith in what God says He has done to us and for us in Christ. It's amazing and reviving!

Focused anywhere else, you'll soon weary and begin to grow weak in faith. That's not normal for you! Your judgment will be impaired because there's always more to the story than what's right in front of you.

So get back to looking at where life is found. You'll feel better.

Sometimes People Go A Bit Too Far

Like a lot of people, I get a little tired of the meaning of Easter getting hijacked. Jesus didn't tell us to make a holiday out of what He did for us through His resurrection, but I would like it if we at least kept to the facts.

Along with Easter stuff (egg hunts, candy, etc.) around my house, we go all out for Easter. We watch the first half of Ben Hur (A Tale of the Christ) on Saturday night, and the second half on Easter Sunday, pray together, and even make chalk drawings on our driveway about Easter, weather permitting. We sort of overwhelm the fun, if pagan, stuff with the truth.

But I gotta say that this guy goes a little too far in his aversion for the paganomics of Easter. What do you think?

Looking Into Heaven

“We’re on approach. Flight attendants prepare for landing.”

As the aircraft pitched slightly from left to right and back again, I was relieved to hear the captain’s voice over the loudspeakers. There were a few more horizontal adjustments, a wah-whump, whump, and we were rolling safely on the runway in Vancouver, British Columbia. At last.

I was there to assist men in their journey with God in the hope that, in addition to growing more confident in Christ, they would discover what it’s like to live by the Spirit. By Sunday afternoon, they had.

A particular passage became beautifully clear:

5For those who are according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who are according to the Spirit, the things of the Spirit. 6For the mind set on the flesh is death, but the mind set on the Spirit is life and peace,. . . (Romans 8:5,6 NAS)

To demonstrate this passage, I asked a young man (Zach) to join me up front, and then asked the men at the retreat to tell me about Zach—as though I had never met him. “He’s fun!” “He’s smart!” “He’s a good friend!” “His wife needs prayer!” And on it went. Then I asked, “Now that I know what Zach is like, tell Zach who God says He is. Tell it directly to Zach. And don’t rush this; there’s no hurry.”

Silence.

And then this: “Zach, you’re a holy man.” “Zach, you’re righteous.” “You’re perfect.” “You’re blameless.” “You’re forgiven.” “You’ve got God living in you.” “All of heaven recognizes you as a son of God.”

And that included us. We saw Zach.

No one moved. It was amazing. No, it was more than that. It was sacred. When I asked what the men were feeling, somewhat breathlessly they said, “I feel like I’m looking into heaven.” “I feel hope.” “I feel life.” “I feel great.” “I feel peace.” “I feel like I’m really seeing Zach.” “When we changed our minds from looking at the visible to looking at the invisible, everything changed from shallow and fleshly to deep and true.”

They felt God.

Romans 8:5-6 came alive in that moment as we turned our minds away from what was visible to what was invisible. We thought of Zach and addressed him according to what the Bible says God has made of him, and Zach was illuminated to us and to himself. And we felt it. We felt “life and peace,” the kind of life and peace produced by the Holy Spirit whenever we turn our minds toward Him.

For the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life. (Gal 6:8)

It was tremendous and Zach was a little overwhelmed. He felt the conflict between the flesh and Spirit, but he, too, chose to sow to the Spirit, reaping what God has promised. “I feel holy. I feel clean.” Indeed, he was—indeed, he is.

Approaching or addressing someone as they have become in Christ causes us to change our minds. We go away from the mind of the flesh and begin thinking according to the mind of the Spirit. You can feel the change! This isn’t a game you play or a way of pretending your way through life. A worldly curtain is drawn back to reveal the true image behind—and that’s more than a bit dazzling! I don’t recommend that you immediately begin addressing all the Christians you know as Holy Hannah, Righteous Rudy, or Forgiven Frank, because that makes a methodical mess out of the holy and sacred. You might silently think of them as the holy, blameless and forgiven sons or daughters they have become, and then see what the Spirit gives you or where He leads you. You won’t have to be creative when God is at work. He’s pretty creative already.

An added benefit of setting our mind upon the Spirit in addressing a brother (as we did with Zach) is that we experienced a sort of mini revival. In looking at Zach, we found ourselves too. (Surprise! The Super Heroes of God.) We reaped life, the Spirit invigorated us, and we were deeply encouraged by God. The men knew that they could do this at home with their families, at work, at church, by phone or email, even while driving on the freeway. With all that goes on around us, we’re always on approach. Take advantage.

Setting our minds upon the Spirit is our new normal way of living in this world. We’re not of it—we’re a heavenly colony on earth. But since we’re in it, we do well to see it as He sees it, and to approach it from there. We’ll be looking into heaven.

We’re better off than we think.

Ralph

A Wrap On The Vancouver, B.C., Men's Retreat

I love the men from Hillside Church and New Life Church.

The Men’s Retreat in Vancouver, BC, went well beyond my expectations. The men were incredibly sincere—they arrived full of desire to know God and to grow in Christ. It seemed all I needed to do was light a match and—woosh—desire met God.

We began on Friday night with a Q & A time, an unusual manner by which to start a retreat. Simply, it’s what I thought the Spirit wanted to do. And the guys were great, asking me about my family, my ministry, life in Colorado, my upbringing, and when I thought the US would get out of Iraq!

One young man (a theology school grad) offered that he was concerned that there were so few men in the church. “Why do you think that is?” he asked. “I don’t think they have found God most desirable,” I answered, “I don’t think they’ve discovered Him to be the very best pursuit that life offers. Instead, they’re enjoying sports and beer and job commitments and being weekend warriors up in the mountains and out into the sea. There’s no fire in their hearts for God, no heat coming from their passion for Him. If we tell them to be committed and to behave well and to do good things for God when they have no heart for Him, we make them worse off. Instead we should be telling them about His heart for them—that He has reconciled them and made them very much like Himself, that He is not counting their sins against them but calling them to come near and to find their life in His life for them. When we start giving that to them, we might see more hanging around.”

When another man asked a question in keeping with the subtitle of my book, “What astounding thing has happened to you?” I told the story of the two most important beatings of my life: one I received, and one I gave.

The one I received was from a neighbor kid when I was in, oh, maybe eighth or ninth grade. The affects of that one lasted for many years of intimidation every time I saw him, until I beat him up years later. And I got him good.

I beat him up with the gospel.

A chance meeting at a gas station led to him asking, “What’s this Christian thing? Why did you become a Christian?” I immediately began pummeling him with how hell is no place I want to be—The fire there burns FOREVER AND EVER, and one never stops BURNING IN PAIN. And because I didn’t want to GO TO HELL, I became a Christian.

While that description is true, what do you suspect my motive was? You got it—to beat the hell outta him. However, I was interrupted by the Holy Spirit’s words in my mind: “You don’t like him, do you? But I do. Would you like my love for him?” After blubbering an inward, “Yeah. I mean, yes.” the very love of God filled me for my opponent. . .I mean neighbor. And His love suddenly was my love. It was the most natural and amazing and uncomplicated love I had ever felt. I found no fault with him and there was not one remnant of bitterness as I began to explain the love of God—from one bully to another.

“And that’s what I want to talk with you about this weekend,” I explained to the men at the retreat. “God in you. Wouldn’t it be thrilling to find Him in you, ready and capable for everything you face?”

So that’s what we talked about: Where is God? (In me.) What’s He doing there? (Having a fight with the flesh.) How can I let Him do whatever He wants from within me? (Hit my pause button.) How can I assist others to know God? (Set my mind on what the Spirit says.)

After communion and some more worship, we concluded with this:

Ephesians 3:14For this reason I kneel before the Father, 15from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. 16I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, 17so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, 18may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, 19and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
20Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, 21to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever! Amen.

It was, perhaps, the best retreat I have ever been a part of. . .at least until the next one.