Friday, July 17, 2009

PIONEER COLUMN (July '09) - Letting go

A few years ago my pastor preached a sermon on unabashed, uninhibited, totally abandoned worship. The kind of worship that displays devotion to God with no regard for pride or embarrassment. The kind of worship that’s a heartfelt expression, setting aside all concern for keeping up appearances.

Pastor was teaching the story of David bringing the Ark of the Covenant to rest in Jerusalem. 2 Samuel describes a festive occasion—cheering crowds, the sounding of the trumpets, and dancing in the streets. In fact, King David himself danced before the Lord, “with all his might” (2 Samuel 6:14). David left his regal demeanor and attire behind. He danced with zealous excitement that gave homage—respect, reverence—to God.

Respect? Reverence? A king and mighty warrior dressed in a simple tunic, an under garment, dancing through the streets as an act of reverence?

The passage moved our pastor to one of those humbling comparison points: would I be able to cast aside my inhibitions to worship God so freely? He admitted he wasn’t sure he could. Far from being a reserved man, the prospect of being so transparent as to dance in his underwear—even before the Lord—struck him as difficult.

Most people don’t remember this self-admission. It’s the outrageousness that sticks in their memories. Years later people still remark, “You’re not going to dance in your underwear, are you Pastor?” Because dancing for God with all your might, dressed only in your underwear is not reverent. It’s just ridiculous.

And that’s how David’s wife, Michal, saw things. Her sarcastic quip, “How the king distinguished himself today!” (2 Samuel 6:20) revealed that her husband’s display was simply low-class.

We tend to look at homage to God—reverence—as a somber experience. It calls for quiet, stillness, our most reserved self. Yet this reverence at times holds us back, keeps us from giving God the best we have. We control the behavior instead of letting our spirits speak to God.

David’s dance speaks of joy and thankfulness for the return of the ark—the container holding the Ten Commandments, and to the ancient Israelites, the representation of the very presence of God. David’s attire speaks of humility, perhaps even penitence. See, the first venture to bring the ark to Jerusalem was anything but reverent.

Somewhere in the history of God’s people the sacred and mysterious instructions for transporting the holy objects were lost. God had detailed the proper procedure for traveling with the ark. Two gold-plated poles were inserted into four gold rings attached at each side of the box. The poles were lifted, and the ark rose above the shoulders of the carriers. The traveling Israelites processed behind at a distance of about half a mile. Though the ark was out of their sight lines, the people stepped out. By day or night, God remained with them as a pillar of cloud or fire, showing the way.

The first attempt to move the ark was little more than corporate relocation. The moving company pulled up, hoisted the ark to a cart, hitched the cart to a team of oxen, and hit the road with two men leading the way. It was an efficient and expedient operation, but it wasn’t reverent. God was not honored and He canceled the move.

In time, David tried again…with four priests serving as ark bearers. And when they had taken only six steps, the procession came to a halt and the company offered sacrifice to the Lord. They had it right—they were giving God the honor He deserved. And it was cause for unrestrained, jubilant worship all the way to the city of Jerusalem.

Reverence is the response to the sanctity and mystery of God. Sometimes that response is quiet humility. Sometimes it is singing. Or fasting. Or feeding the hungry and visiting the sick. Or reflecting on His word. Or dancing—even dancing before Him in your underwear.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

PIONEER COLUMN (June 09) - Everyone Act Medium

The children gathered inside their rough shelter. Though slapped together with scrap lumber and plywood, their clubhouse was a tight and sturdy structure. And comfortable, too, thanks to the carpet remnants covering the dirt floor. The clubhouse served them well as the site for games, sharing secrets, and just plain hiding out.

It was during a time of quiet hiding that the idea of official rules was proposed. They were a club, after all. An organization with a purpose. Rules were expected. So after short deliberation, the club established three comprehensive rules:
1) Nobody act big.
2) Nobody act small.
3) Everybody act medium.

Everybody act medium. Isn’t that great? Big. Small. Medium. Isn’t that just like kids? Wisdom we could all adopt for our “clubs.”

Because we know people who act big—people who focus the attention on themselves. They brag. They correct. They cop an attitude. They want to win you over. Most often, people who use bravado are convinced you will like them—will want to be with them, and be like them—once you understand how smart or strong or talented they are.

But the sad fact is, these are the people you want to see fail.

God knows this is our human reaction. So He warns, Let someone else praise you, not your own mouth—a stranger, not your own lips (Proverbs 27:2 NLT). That’s acting medium…letting someone else praise you.

Acting small—thinking you’re not good enough—should also be banned in our clubs. Small act-ers make excuses that keep them from becoming the people God intended them to be. They say, “But I’m not pretty enough/smart enough/talented enough” or “I don’t have the right name in this town.” They stay small with their excuses.

And sometimes misinterpretation of Scripture leads people to act small. Jesus often warned about the dangers of self-promotion. In Luke 14:11 He said, All who make themselves great will be made humble, but all who make themselves humble will be made great.

A person might take to heart just a small part of the verse, make themselves humble, and put on a cover of wretchedness in order to be humble. But no one is unworthy to God. Taking an attitude of not being good enough dishonors our Creator.

The Scripture is also misinterpreted when it is manipulated. When a person claims all who make themselves humble will be made great as a promise for this world, humility is misused. This person is seeking the recognition of man. When you consider God has something far greater for us, that is acting pretty small. God wants to be the One who makes you great. That’s acting medium…letting God give your humble work recognition.

God calls us to be medium people: Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves (Philippians 2:3 – 4 NLT).

So, what does it take to be a medium person? Three things:
1) Be yourself. Be the person God made you to be (if you don’t know, ask Him). Be genuine; be sincere. Don’t be a phony. Be transparent and willing to take risks. Are you shy? Take a risk and introduce yourself to others. Do you cry easily? Let people see your tears. Are you having a hard time? Share it with someone. Let someone help you carry the burden.
2) Be willing to be less of yourself. If you have outstanding talent, step aside. Let someone else have the glory. And then be their greatest cheerleader.
3) Be willing to be more of yourself...in Christ. Let more of Jesus shine through you. What would that look like? It would be an aura of patience and kindness, but not jealousy or boasting or pride or rudeness. It would allow others to have their way. It would not be irritable and would not keep tally of wrongs. It would not celebrate injustice, but rejoice when truth triumphs. It would never give up, never lose faith, would always be hopeful. It would endure through every circumstance (1 Corinthians 13:4 – 7 paraphrase). Being more of yourself in Christ is letting the love of Jesus shine through.

PIONEER COLUMN (April 09) - A Story to Tell

It has all the elements of a top-rated soap opera: an extramarital affair, unplanned pregnancy, murder, remarriage. But this story doesn’t come from prime time television. This is the story of King David.

For months David lived with the secret of his affair with Bathsheba…months that cost him physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Unable to eat or keep food down, his body wasted away. Guilt can do that—it can steal the appetite or stir up the stomach. It left David with no energy. Keeping his secret took everything he had. Secrets require vigilance against betrayers. Trusting no one, suspicion drained David like the heaviness of summer heat.

But when confronted, David’s eyes opened. He recognized the affair as sin. David saw clearly that he had sinned against God. Against You, You only, I have sinned and done what is evil in Your sight -- Psalm 51:4. The affair affected many people—many had been hurt, some even died—but David’s sin was against God’s commands for holy living.

David mourned his transgressions. He was never away from them. He recognized the distance between him and God. He begged: Wash me, cleanse me, purify me, blot out my transgressions.

Then he asked for the one thing sorely missing in his life—joy. Restore to me the joy of Your salvation—Psalm 51:12. Until sin was made apparent, David hadn’t even realized the joy was AWOL.

Isn’t that the way it goes? There’s no joy in keeping a secret. We fear what could happen if it came out…we’d be ruined, abandoned, shamed. Yet living with the secret, protecting it, ever suspicious, watching our backs…there’s no joy or satisfaction in that kind of living.

With confession came forgiveness. And David rejoiced. He declared, Open my lips that my mouth may declare your praise. Then my tongue will joyfully sing of Your righteousness (verses 14, 15). This was no time to be silent. It was time to speak up with praise and joyful singing. It was time to tell of the good things of God. It was time to share what God had done: David had been delivered, washed clean, the sin erased. He was able to start anew.

Oh, the world needed to know. And so David promised, God, when they hear my story, they’ll know just how awesome you are.

When Mary and the other women went to the tomb that Sunday morning, they found…joy. They had lived through three days of unbelievable sorrow. They had seen their beloved Jesus nailed to a cross, suffocating as His lungs collapsed. The women looked up at the cross and their eyes were opened. Jesus became sin—their sin.
The next day, they mourned. They cried out to God. They begged for another chance, a do-over. To be restored to Jesus. To be clean and renewed, ready to give it another try, a better try.

And on Sunday, they found the empty tomb. Jesus’ body was gone. They were confused…till the angel let them know that Jesus was not in the grave. Tombs are for dead people and Jesus was alive.
Jesus was alive.

The women ran to tell the others—JESUS IS ALIVE.

Do you think they had joy?

We are nearly to the end of the time of self-denial called Lent. This season culminates with the events remembered this weekend. Today, we recall Jesus on that cross…high and lifted up…He who had no sin made to be sin for us. Tomorrow is a day of reflecting, crying out, asking for God’s mercy.

And Sunday is our day of joy restored.

What do you do when you have joy restored?
You share the Good News. Let others know the marvelous things that God has done. Open your lips. Let your tongue joyfully sing. Open your mouths to declare your praise. JESUS IS ALIVE.