God as a Father

One Thing

Unfulfilled Dreams and Undivided Hearts

I was catching up with my brother Steve last week and we got onto the subject of our dreams. In many ways, we're in similar places: pursuing our dreams yet living with the reality that those dreams are as yet unfulfilled. He's pursuing the dream of getting signed to a major record label (with his band Last Go), whilst Bee and I are pursuing the dream of church-planting. As far as Steve and I can tell, we both believe the dreams are God-given, and both revolve around extending his kingdom in the world. Yet pursuing these dreams and trusting that God is in charge is a rocky road.

When things feel out of control our instinct is to grab hold of whatever we can in attempt to gain control again. Such an instinct has two ramifications: firstly we turn from looking to God as the one who fulfills dreams (looking internally instead), and secondly we begin to micromanage. We fascinate ourselves with the small (and often inconsequential) details in an attempt to find security in the midst of our panic and anxiety. Trust me, neither option bears any fruit.

The Psalmist has an altogether different approach of meeting God in the place of anxiety. He simply prays: Lord give me an undivided heart (Psalm 86:7). The greek word for anxiety (used for example in Philippians 4:6 - Do not be anxious about anything...) literally means to be divided. It's as if there is a war within to either trust God or to take control ourselves, and such a battle creates tension. So the Psalmist prays for an undivided heart. In other words, 'help me to trust that you are my provider, the one who brings about the dreams you deposit in peoples hearts (Phil 1:6) and the one who works all things for good (Rom 8:28).'

Learning to trust God is a battle of the mind, but the battle is equally fought elsewhere. As Luther suggested, trust is about leaning on the promises and character of God. Put simply, trust is about acting in the light of what we know of God. It's not simply about believing, but about acting on those beliefs. So if we truly believe he is loving, good and all-powerful, we act accordingly. Which raises the potentially painful question: what do we really believe about God? We need to provide an honest answer to that question (rather than the answer we know we should provide): for only then can we ask God to dismantle our distorted perceptions and to reveal himself as he truly is. This initiates the journey of learning to lean and trust in God, the fruit of which Paul goes on to explain as inner peace in the place of panic: 'And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus (Phil 4:7).'

The road of trusting God with our dreams will no doubt still remain rocky. The transformation that comes about through trust isn't to do with the road and how rocky it is. It's to do with our hearts and how undivided they are. So like the Psalmist, Steve and I are learning to pray 'Lord give me an undivided heart' whilst we travel on the rocky road towards our dreams.

By the way, to check out Steve's music, visit www.myspace.com/lastgo

Divine Opportunities

Home Sweet Home

Jesus' primary message was the announcement of the arrival of God's kingdom. Much of the church's teaching these days regarding the kingdom of God focusses on the proclamation and demonstration of the gospel. In quoting Jesus' kingdom manifesto in Luke 4 (which in turn borrows language from Isaiah 61), we speak about preaching to the poor, healing the sick, comforting the broken and liberating the oppressed. These are all important manifestations of the kingdom, but in focussing our attention on these signs we perhaps forget that for first century Jews, to speak of God's kingdom finally arriving was primarily to speak of their full return from exile: they may have returned from Babylon, but they were still under Roman oppression and therefore still in a state of semi-exile, awaiting rescue.

This rescue and return from exile was not just about a return to their home in Jerusalem: it was a return to all that God called them to be and to all that God had called them to do. It was a return to their true 'home'. Jesus' kingdom ministry was therefore a ministry of restoration, with his acts of healing and deliverance (which restored individuals to how God had called them to be) serving as a symbol for what he was doing for Israel as a whole.

This got me thinking: if the ministry of the church is to continue Jesus' kingdom ministry, then perhaps we would do well to recapture this language of 'homecoming'. Our mission is simply to invite people to return to their Father in heaven, through the work of Jesus and in the power of the Spirit. This return is a return to both their true identities (as God's image-bearers in the world) and to their true calling (to extend God's blessing to the world).

It's interesting that numerous people describe coming to faith in Christ as a homecoming experience. I've often overseen how true to the gospel that image is. At his birth (the incarnation) Jesus entered Israel's exile in order to put an end to it (the cross), so that freedom and new life may emerge (the resurrection). Put simply, Jesus entered Israel's pain to heal her and bring her home. And I believe he asks (and empowers) us to do the same: to enter the exile of those around us (their addictions, pain and brokenness) so that by the help of God, we can lead them home!

Heavenward

Restoration

Shame exists when we know we are settling for less than we are made for. Before the disobedience of Adam and Eve, Genesis states that they were naked and unashamed. That must have felt great! However, through their disobedience they empty themselves of their true identities, and settle for less than they were made for. In short, for the first time, they felt shame, and tried to hide from God.

Shame is a horrible feeling. It makes us want to be alone. But even in Genesis 3 there are signs of redemption, as God searches out the people who have betrayed him. He simply asks them 'Where are you?' God doesn't want to leave his people in that place of shame, he wants to find them and heal them. And therefore God takes them back to the source of their pain and shame by asking: 'Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?' Restoration involves undoing what has been done: it involves going back in order to move forward with freedom.

I recently reread the story of Peter's betrayal of Jesus. Jesus had believed in Peter from the very beginning, and demonstrated his trust in Peter time and time again. However, Peter gets one opportunity to demonstrate his belief in Jesus as the Messiah, and instead of sticking up for Jesus, he disowns Jesus, claiming to not know him. In Luke 22 Peter is asked if he was one of Jesus’ disciples right in front of Jesus. Listen to his response:

Peter replied, "Man, I don't know what you're talking about!" Just as he was speaking, the rooster crowed. The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him: "Before the rooster crows today, you will disown me three times." And he went outside and wept bitterly.

Just as Peter disowns Jesus, it says that Jesus looked him straight in the eye. Ouch! What do you think Peter saw in Jesus’ eyes? Surely it was the face of a hurting man who has just been rejected by his best friend. I don’t think Peter would have slept one wink during the next 3 days. That one look would have been seared on his mind's eye. Peter wept bitterly, because he was an absolutely broken man.

But this broken shell of a man experiences two forms of restoration. The next thing we read about Peter was that he was back with the disciples. He had just betrayed Jesus, as well as the rest of the disciples, and anyone would think that the disciples would want absolutely nothing to do with him. Yet he’s embraced back in. They stick by him at his lowest point.

And then comes the climactic moment when he sees Jesus again – when he looks Jesus straight in the eye again. Will he see that same face of disappointment? Jesus simply asks him the question 'Do you love me?' But he asks him three times, which isn’t a mistake. Each question and each answer was an opportunity to heal the wound that each statement of betrayal had caused. Jesus takes Peter back to his lowest point: his place of shame.

This point is made clear in the gospel narrative. The scene in which Peter first betrays Jesus is set out in John 18:

It was cold, and the servants and officials stood around a fire they had made to keep warm. Peter also was standing with them, warming himself.

However, Peter's moment of restoration (John 21) also takes place by a fire. In fact, the Greek word used here is only found in all of the New Testament in these two texts. The point is obvious: Jesus takes Peter back to that place of failure, and in doing so restores him. Peter can now freely say, 'You know I love you.'

The result is that by the time you get to the books of Acts, Peter isn’t a man with skeletons in the closet: a man driven by the need to redeem himself. He is now a man that has experienced grace beyond grace, ready to fight and eventually die for the cause of God’s kingdom.

We all settle for less than we are made for. We all experience shame. But God's grace is that he searches us out, and in entering our place of shame, he brings healing and restoration. That's what the incarnation and the cross are all about. Christ takes on our identity so that we might take on his. He enters our shame that we might enter his glory. However, we have a part to play in such an incredible process. We have to be willing to be found. We have to welcome Christ into our place of shame: we have to respond to his simple question: 'Where are you?'