Walking into Battle

The Civil War has been a macabre fascination for me: people -- family -- living in relationship, side by side for years, suddenly forced by their beliefs and social circumstances to kill one another; the dearth of medical knowledge coupled with the risky medical procedures conducted (many successfully!) during those years; weaponry that was developed. A picture of the human tragedy so prevalent throughout that period and that region of our country is found in the book, Diary of a Dead Man, compiled by J. P. Ray. I read it years ago, and found the circumstances of the Civil War really coming alive to me. The conditions the soldiers and prisoners were forced to endure; the hardships of war and the loneliness of being away from family; the utter disbelief of working the family farm one week, and subsisting on insufficient rations the next; and the walking! Entire days given over to lugging gear and troops from one battle to the next. Constant movement and redirection communicated swiftly by horseback, executed laboriously by sick and weary men.

As I was doing my study on anger this morning, I read 1 Corinthians 10:13, Ephesians 6:10-18, and Philippians 4:13. God has provided a way for all of us to control whatever it is we need to control -- anger, fear, impulsive shopping, lying; to say that we cannot obey, or we are not receiving any help from the Holy Spirit is to call God a liar, to say He is not faithful. Help exists, a way out exists; we must seek God's direction, and He will enable us to do whatever He commands -- like control ourselves (Proverbs 25:28). Ephesians breaks it all down, explaining each piece of "armor" and what it does for us: truth, faith, salvation, righteousness, the preparedness that comes from the gospel of peace, the word of God, and prayer. We are equipped in Christ. BUT...

I think of all that walking. Walking either weakens or strengthens a soldier. Without rest or the proper nourishment, without proper clothing, the soldier falls ill, becomes weak and exhausted. With all the soldier requires (in this analogy, all God provides liberally and faithfully) the soldier becomes stronger; but the soldier must walk. Day after day; mile after mile. Battles don't come at every turn; a soldier may not see serious combat for weeks at a time; but the soldier must still walk, walk, walk, walk. To build strength; so the weapons and defenses supplied become part of the soldier; to become one with other soldiers and with their Leadership; to develop patterns within the brain to which the soldier will automatically seek to return once the battle is over. The soldier must walk. It's sometimes boring and arduous; it may be hard to get motivated when other things appear more pressing, but walking is imperative for the soldier. So, get your walk in today -- and everyday -- you'll be better for it in the battle.

What to Give The King?

"If you were going to eat a late night snack, if you could eat the nastiest, most delicious thing you could get, what would it be?" My husband was setting me up for a surprise.

"A Burger King hamburger."

"A Burger King hamburger? Like, just a regular Burger King hamburger?"

"Yup."

"Cheese?"

"Nope." I'd obviously caught him off guard. I try to eat fresh. I try to eat healthy. A Burger King hamburger is neither of those things; but it is a delicious combination of sweet ketchup and tangy mustard. The soft white flour bun and flame broiled, almost crispy-coated burger are a textural contradiction worth indulging. The perfectly vile culinary treat. And while my husband may not always be cagey when it comes to surprising me, I admire his willingness to please. He wanted to get it just right.

Many of us have tried to get it just right when it comes to being a Christian. We went to church, but there was little within us that truly wanted to be there. We used all of those wonderful Christian-isms: "Praise God" and "I'll pray about it", but we never really meant any of them. We tried so hard to stop swearing or smoking or gossiping or whatever it was that made us feel sick to our stomachs each time anyone talked about the Lord "freeing them from those things." We promised -- more to ourselves than to any Higher Power -- over and over that this time we were going to change. We'd read a Book we never quite understood; we'd hang out with nice people we never really liked; we'd pray even though we felt like it was empty and pointless and nothing more than talking to the four walls. Maybe you're still doing those things. I know a man, almost seventy years old, who finds no joy in being a Christian, but tries desperately to "become" one. His struggle is intense and constant. His acting leaves casualties in his wake wherever he goes.

Being a Christian has nothing to do with doing anything, but giving Jesus all He asks: you. Your tears. Your pain. Your anger. Your bad habits. Your fear. The filthiest, most vile moments of your life; the darkest thoughts you've ever had. That is what He asks. Sure, He wants whatever else you've got there, the things He gave you in the first place: talents, joys, moments of peace; but it's the other stuff, the disgusting and awful things He wants to take from you and never give back. That is what you can give Him; He even died on the cross to have it. That is what this King -- the King of kings -- considers a precious and wonderful gift. He knows all your trying will leave you empty and frustrated; He knows all your trying cannot erase the things you've done. But He can, He did, and He wants it all.

Let go. Let Him take it. Trust Him for everything after that. And never, ever look back. That's the perfect gift for The King!

Love Freely

Once a month I sit in awe of God's goodness and creativity, as I watch each member of my church family take communion. We come from all walks of life. We look very dissimilar. We have very different capacities to give and do. We are in multiple stages of life and our walk with the Lord. We even take communion differently, think differently and bring divergent requests to God. But we are one. Why? Because Jesus' blood made us that way. So how can Christians allow opinions -- or worse, the very differences for which we were chosen -- to divide? Can we allow opinions to negate the power of the blood of Christ?

Look at your spouse -- I mean, really look at him. Is he perfect in every way? Look at your child. Do you love everything about her? Look at the person sitting beside you in the pew, on the bus, at the doctor's office. What do you absolutely love about them? Look at your boss, the one who just told you the transfer you've been awaiting has been categorically denied. Does she remain "the best boss you could ever ask for"? Circumstances. Qualifications. Exceptions. There are things that affect or determine our opinions of one another, but do they change our role or our relationship to others?

Through the Parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus illustrated our function as neighbor to anyone we encounter -- even those at opposite ends of religious or political thought, or those ethnically or socially different. We are to love our neighbors, those we encounter, as we love ourselves -- not just as some warm, cozy emotion, but actively. Do you make sure you get rest? Do you make sure you've had something to eat daily? Did you clothe yourself appropriately today? Have you found a reason to laugh or something uplifting to read? Do you ever consider doing the same for your neighbor?

Or are you too busy picking them apart to other coworkers? Are you stalking their Twitter for more things to be irritated about? Have you rushed out to put your car in front of your house so he can't park his leaky hoopty there? Are you frantically gathering your things to move away from the weary mother and her bevy of sick children? Did you secretly videotape a Christian sister at the club on Saturday night? (Why are you there?) Have you stopped putting the toilet seat down until your wife apologizes? Do these things sound silly? In light of what was done for each of us the cross, they are sad and wrong. They are ways we try to preserve our selves -- from the condemnation of our friends, from poverty, form extra work, from illness, from hurt. And they are binding -- to those we subject, and to ourselves. Loving others isn't only something we do for others; it's something we do for us! We are one in Christ. And to those not in Christ, we are Christ.

Love others today. Be blessed, and walk in freedom.

A Tour de Faith

Have you ever seen those Peleton commercials? People riding stationary bikes in beautiful sunlit settings; smiling instructors stream right into their homes and challenge riders to summit that peak, cross that line. The exertion, the victory! Exciting, right? Not to me. Despite how great those commercials make cycling look, I loath it. I was a heavy kid, and I grew up in a neighborhood where almost every street was an incline. Getting my short, fat legs moving fast enough to carry my chunky butt up a hill and keep pace with my friends was exhausting and humiliating. I was always last, sometimes choosing to walk my bike up the hill just to arrive before sundown.

Fast forward to thinner, healthier -- but far from Size 4, Jillian Michaels -- me. I didn't get tired of being last: I do the best I can. I didn't tire of the hills: every ascent has an exhilarating free fall on the other side. I got tired of feeling terrible while cycling. I could have tried to change my friends, maybe coaxing them into a different activity. I could have tried to change the circumstances, staying at home while they cycled and only joining them when they were doing things less physical. I could have jumped off the bicycle and dumped my friends altogether, deciding that change -- any change at all -- would require too much effort, and our relationship wasn't worth it. Or I could change me, abandoning the cheese curls and moving away from the TV. (I feel a metaphor coming on!)

And that's the way it is with cycles. Every life has them. Some are  beneficial; others, detrimental. Some are easy with little benefit; others, rigorous with tremendous gains. Some should be broken, some should be established, and some should simply be endured with a grateful, humble heart.

Jesus prayed for His disciples. He wanted to effect change in them. The pattern was changing, He would no longer be around to disciple them daily, and He knew they needed to be prepared for what would come. To be successful, to survive this new cycle, they had to change. And did they ever!

Lot of the Bible was stuck in a terrible situation. He chose to deal with it himself, and wasn't doing such a great job. God gave Lot the opportunity for a fresh start elsewhere, and Sodom, a source of sin and ineffectiveness was completely eradicated.

Then there was Hannah, crying and pouring her heart out to God. She was barren and living with a man who, though he was kind, had another wife -- one who had given him children; she tormented Hannah relentlessly. God completely exchanged Hannah's pattern of grief for one of joy and favor by changing her circumstances.

Saul was a killing machine, but God wanted him to become a bearer of good news rather than dread. The transformation was so radical he was given a new name, and Paul's life became a cycle of traveling and writing, completely given over to bringing others the good news of Jesus.

What about cycles that can't be broken? What about cycles that occur through no fault of our own? Read the account of Joseph in the Old Testament. He endured a life of turmoil and false accusation, but never turned from God, even proclaiming that those who had hurt him may have desired to do him wrong, but God had used it all for good, "to save many people alive."

When it came to my cycling friends, I decided change was too much work, and I ditched them; but that has remained with me forever -- not because I lost great friends (I really don't remember most of them), but because I didn't break the cycle of indulgence and guilt for many years.

If you're caught in a cycle of addiction or bad behavior or wrong thinking, don't wait, seek change. If you've got no direction and you're not quite sure what your life is about, seek help -- from Jesus, from others; find yourself some good habits to begin. If you're doing all the right things, but tribulation seems to be running through you life on a loop, endure it, by God's help, with gratitude. He is doing something good.

Made New

The Christian school I attended was faithful in offering opportunities for its students to know Jesus. Classes that always began with prayer, lessons presented from a biblical worldview, retreats and chapel services. At times, some of the "worst human beings" walked the halls of our school, waiting to appear before us and tell the story of how God changed their lives. Drug addicts and gang members, rock band singers, ex-cons and Satanists -- God had changed them all -- many instantaneously. The entire auditorium would remain silent as they spoke of a night when they had come to realize their life was on the fast track to ruination and they could no longer hold it together on their own. As they fell down in tears and begged forgiveness, their whole life changed. They felt new and clean, and immediately turned from their immoral lifestyle; they searched for new opportunities to serve the Lord. A microwave regeneration. Newness now.

Please do not misunderstand; I do not mock or discredit anyone's testimony. It happens. But as a teen, listening to testimony after testimony of amazing transformation, I thought that was the way God worked. Monday, you're in the gutter with a fifth of Boones Farm, and by lunch Tuesday you're smuggling Bibles behind the Iron Curtain. Every time -- and I was an altar call junkie -- I woke up the following day feeling just as hopeless or hateful or ugly as I did the day before, I figured "it didn't take." Or maybe God just didn't love me enough to want to fix me. He certainly didn't seem to have a use for me. When was He going to make me new?

I have come to find that newness doesn't always feel new or even look new the moment it happens. Jesus was making things new long before any of us came on the scene, and yet, look around. We don't always feel new, and we don't always act new. It might be nice if the work was finished and visible inside and out. We could serve with joy and give cheerfully; we could forgive easily and love abundantly. We could walk around as completed saints; nothing in this life would bother or affect us, the kingdom of God functioning perfectly and fully on earth among His people. But there is the issue of the "now."

The newness of Jesus exists in us right alongside the now. The bills don't stop coming when Jesus makes us new. Coworkers don't stop borrowing the dental floss from our desk (true story). Pets don't stop dying or children don't start obeying unquestioningly. Anger or lust don't immediately quit pestering us. But the newness of Jesus is a fact, and facts don't always match up to what we feel or experience right now. Newness in Christ exists that we might handle the now (as ugly as it may be), and see blessing in the now, and help others through their now, and be a living testimony of the newness of God right now, bringing glory to His name!

I can't tell you the exact date I was born again; I don't recall some split-second change in character or outlook or goals. I surrendered time after time, and time after time went back to doing things my way. And I still don't get it right always; but I have been made new, and I believe it and live accordingly. No matter what I feel, no matter what goes on around me, I believe what has been done for me and within me. I get back on track or stay on track with regular self-evaluation, daily seeking to stay within boundaries that keep me safe, and constantly keeping my eyes on Jesus through prayer and Scriptures. Living in the new; serving Him in the now.