Can I Change Myself?

"Can the Ethiopian change his skin or the leopard change his spots?" Jeremiah 13:23. What a curious question. Can I change the pigmentation of my skin? Can a leopard change its appearance? What can I change about myself?

A cosmetic surgeon might reply: "A great deal. I can re-sculpt your face and body. I can give you a new you."

From hair styling and coloring to body, facial, and dental re-sculpting complete makeovers are available. Erasing age telling wrinkles and skin defects, reshaping a nose, thinning out everything from eyelids to belly fat. It's all possible with a surgeon's skill, time, and my money. Yes, I can remodel myself.

But the question remains: can I change me? I can change how I look; can I change who I am? I can change my outside; can I change my inside? I can makeover my body; can I makeover my soul?

The question about the Ethiopian and the leopard is followed by a statement: "Neither can you do good who are accustomed to doing evil." I am who I am. I can't change it.

Depressing, isn't it? If there is no hope of change, why try? If I'm destined to be rotten, then why not be as rotten as hell? If I'm locked into evil, then why not be evil to the max? If I cannot change, then why pretend to be anything other than the rogue I am?

Wait. God has something else to say: "Therefore this is what the Lord says: 'If you repent, I will restore you that you may serve me'" Jeremiah 15:19. Change comes from the Lord.

Change comes through repentance. A concept lost in society and in church. We've reduced repentance to little more than, "Sorry. My bad."

Repentance that brings change is a holy sorrow over my offense against God. A sorrow so real and deep that I can do nothing other than fall at his feet, ask for his mercy, reject my sin, and embrace his righteousness.

Can I change myself? No. But what I can't do. God does.

Truth Isn't For Sissies

Honesty is often interpreted as meanness. If I speak the truth, if I say what I really feel or what I really think, then I'm cold, hardhearted. So, to keep the peace, I tend to camouflage my real feelings and thoughts. Sometime I'm succeed, most of the time I don't.

Truth pushes its way out. It is uncomfortable in captivity, uncomfortable wearing camouflaged clothing. Truth is uncomfortable with compromise, political correctness, blame-shifting, minimizing, dodging, side-stepping, denying, hiding, or lying. Truth avoids shadows; it detests darkness. Truth demands the light.

Why does truth have a bad rap? A number of reasons: truth hurts; we can't or won't handle the truth; we don't want our life-lie exposed. So, we settle for snippets of shaded-truth cushioned with goose-down.

Jesus, John declared, came "from the Father, full of grace and truth" John 1:14. Grace and truth perfectly balanced in his life, attitude, thoughts, actions, words. But truth didn't always come across as polite, nice, or even compassionate.

Jesus was invited into a home in Tyre. He was barely inside when a woman who had a "disturbed daughter" came and knelt at his feet, begging for help. The woman was Greek and asked Jesus to come with her to help her daughter.

Jesus said to the woman, "Stand in line and take your turn. The children get fed first. If there is any left over the dogs get it" Mark 7:27. Sounds abrupt, rude, and offense to me.

But the woman refused to be put off, "Of course, Master. But don't the dogs under the table get scraps dropped by the children?"

Grace and Truth responded, "You're right! On your way! Your daughter is no longer disturbed. The demonic affliction is gone." The woman went home and found her daughter healed, the torment gone for good.

Truth isn't for sissies. Truth hurts before it heals.

Eagles Shouldn't Be Caged

Eagles shouldn't be caged. Eagles are born to fly to heights of 10,000 feet, sore on invisible streams of wind, cruse at 35 mph during level flight. Eagles need thousands of acres in which to hunt and high trees and mountain cliffs to build their 5 ft. diameter nest. They need to hunt, kill, eat, mate, and feed and protect their chicks.

Eagles shouldn't be caged. Eagles are professional fisherman. Like all birds, eagles have color vision. Their eyes are almost as large as a human's, but 4 times sharper than a person with perfect vision. An eagle can identify a rabbit moving almost a mile away. Flying at an altitude of 1000 feet over open country it is possible for an eagle to spot prey over 3 square miles.

Eagles shouldn't be caged. From several hundred feet above the water a soaring or flying eagle can spot fish. And since most fish are counter-shaded, darker on the top and harder to see from above, this is an extraordinary feat.

So, why is this eagle caged? It has a permanent injury. Release means death. Kind keepers provide a safe place for it to live out its life. A nice thing to do. The eagle seems content but it's not the creature it was created to be. Life restricted. Food provided. Needs met. But there are no wind currents for its 90 inch wing span to battle, no enemy to fight, no resistance, no risks, no fresh fish or live rabbit to hunt. In a cage, life is safe and soft.

Eagles shouldn't be caged. The cage that protects also kills. A slow, undetected death, but death nevertheless. The cage kills the eagle's soul. It flutters from one branch to another. It eats what's provided. No challenges. No risks. No resistance. No reward. It lives out its days as a trophy to caring humans and a wonder to admiring tourists. But inside this grand bird is dying. The cage robs the eagle of its "eagleness."

We shouldn't be caged either. Take away our freedom to soar, to resist, to build, to reproduce, to live freely and fully, and our souls wither and die. A cage, no matter how good the intentions, is still a cage. Cages tend to become permanent. The keepers have the key. The occupants adjust to their confinement. Freedom is forgotten--a hazy dream of what was.

Watch out for cages that offer a safe place, a quick fix, a helping hand. No matter how inviting, it may become your permanent home. "It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again with a yoke of slavery" Galatians 5:1.

A Confession

Hear the word of the Lord: "If we claim that we're free from sin, we're only fooling ourselves. A claim like that is errant nonsense" I John 1:8.

This is our sin: We have preached love but we have not loved. We have judged others harder than we have judged ourselves and then we have arrogantly separated ourselves from them.

We have manipulated others for our own selfish interest. We have ignored the neediest and catered to the successful.

Those who are different draw our suspicion rather than our compassion. And some who have sinned we decided not to forgive.

We submit to the power-brokers, bow to the intelligent, admire the strong, and worship the gifted. Yet the bankrupt in spirit pass by us untouched, unnoticed, and unloved.

In all these ways and more, Lord, we have wounded your Body.

O God of grace and compassion, have mercy on us.

"On the other hand, if we admit--make a clean breast of our sins--he won't let us down, he'll be true to himself. He'll forgive our sins and purge us of all wrongdoing" I John 1:9.

God To-Go

"Maybe I have been living much too fast, too restlessly, too feverishly, forgetting to pay attention to what is happening here and now, right under my nose ... you have to be still and wait so that you can realize that God is not in the earthquake, the storm, or the lightening, but in the gentle breeze with which he touches your back." Henri Nouwen

What did God do after creation? He rested. Did God need rest? Does God get tired, fatigued, or exhausted? Or, did God rest for our sakes? Did he stop working to model what we need to do to soak up his presence and hear his voice?

It's not easy to stop.

We're wired to produce. Time is money. Rest is a waste of time. Meditation is a lost discipline. We'll take God on-the-run, God to-go. Drive through windows would work well for church. "I'll have a God-burger, a spiritual side salad with oil of the Spirit dressing, and a large Holy Water to go please."

"Do you want to super-size that?"

"Sure."

Spiritual fast food? Not a bad idea for 21st century too-busy-to-breathe-Christians.

C.S. Lewis wrote in one of his letters, "Lord, how I loathe big issues!" He was reacting to pretentiousness that only sees significance in the big accomplishments--in the noisy, hurried, grand, attention-grabbing headlines we try so desperately to create for ourselves.

The most important things can only be learned in our response to the God-in-the-gentle-breeze. "This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel says: 'In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it'" (Isaiah 30:15).

No fast food here.

The drive through window just slammed shut.

Salvation comes from unhurried leisure where we stop long enough to repent from our self-aggrandizing labor and quiet our souls to hear Papa's voice. Inner strength comes from a quiet-faith that changes the question of our lives. The question changes from "How much have we accomplished today" to "How much time have we spent in Papa's presence today?"

Why don't we stop?

We're convinced we're indispensable. From this we need to repent. True spirituality is born when our hearts and minds are quiet and still in God's presence. Over-busy people won't do it.

What if we stopped all the over-doing in our lives? Would anyone care? Would the world fall apart? No.

It's time to stop. Repent. Rest. And rediscover Papa-God's life-giving presence.

Throw Away My Bible?

What if a prophet had the courage to forbid us to read the Bible? What if the prophet required that we bring all our Bibles to a mountain and turn them in?

Then, while we all kneel together on the mountain, the prophet prays this prayer: "God, please take back this book. We are not fit to read it. It only makes us proud, self-righteous, unhappy, and divisive. We aren't ready for it."

Not the best prayer? Maybe not. But an honest prayer.

We're distant cousins to the farmers who lost their income and investments because Jesus spoiled their herds of pigs with demons. The pigs plunged to their death off a cliff. And the farmers begged Jesus to "leave our neighborhood." We can't handle raw truth.

The matter is simple. The Bible is God's love letter to us. It's as easy to understand as any letter between two lovers. But we're schemers. We don't want to understand it.

Deep inside ourselves we know that if we understand what Papa-God says to us then we're obligated to obey it. And we know if we obey what God says our lives will never be the same. We're ruined!

So, we reinvent what the Bible says. We soften it. We reinterpret it. We're dishonest with the message. Wouldn't we be more honest to store it?

Of course, there is another way: "My heart is set on keeping your decrees to the very end" Ps. 119:112.

* a thought taken from the spiritual writings of Kierkegaard

My Noisy Mind

"Silence," wrote Wayne Oates, "is not native to my world."

It's not native to our world either. Most of us are strangers to silence.

Yet we've heard an invitation to silence spoken in hushed tones at the beginning of a worship service or written in italics on the front of a church bulletin: "Be still and know that I am God." We assume it's a gentle invitation to settle down and meet God.

Do we know where these words come from? Somewhere in the bible? Maybe the Psalms?

Psalm 46: "Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." If we read the Psalm we discover this is not a quiet invitation but sharp words of command. Something a teacher might say to unruly students.

Stop talking! Shut off the noise! Turn off your cell phone! Unplug your IPod! Put your Blackberry down! Get quiet!

In plain English: 's-h-u-t u-p!'

But who likes to be told what do? We don't. We send text messages in church. "Who are you to tell me to be quiet?"

"I'm God. And you obviously have no clue what that means or you'd fall on your face, shut your mouth, and lay trembling in my presence! It's My turn to talk; it's your turn to listen. Stop your noise, listen up. You might learn something."

"I will flex my muscles and be 'exalted among the nations' and 'exalted in the earth.' Every one in every place will know who I AM. Without exception."

God demands our full attention: "Come and see the works of the Lord, the desolations he has brought on the earth; he makes wars cease to the ends of the earth; he breaks the bow and shatters the spear, he burns the shields with fire." God-resistance is conquered. No one and nothing withstands His power. Evil knocked out. Peace restored. Life is centered in Him: "The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress."

Why can't we see this?

Could it be that our minds and souls are dulled by our noisy world? Self-generated noise. Addicted noise. Distracting noise.

Am I willing to shut the noise off?

Only when I dare to obey the Spirit's command--"Stand silent!"--will I cultivate a quiet heart that is prepared to "know that God is God!"

The Lily and a Bird

"Once upon a time," Kierkegaard writes as he tells the story of a lily and a bird. I'll retell it in my own words, maybe Kierkegaard won't mind.

Once upon a time a lily grew in a secluded place beside a clear, running brook. It lived in happy companionship with some nettles and a few little flowers that grew nearby. The lily was beautiful--more so than King Solomon's glory--and carefree and happy.

One day a little bird visited the lily. It came the next day and then disappeared. The bird's actions seemed strange to the lily who wondered why the bird was so fickle, why didn't the bird stay put like the little flowers nearby?

The little bird was proud and naughty. Instead of delighting in the lily's beauty, the bird showed off its freedom by coming and going at will, making the lily feel its bondage. The bird added insult to injury by telling the lily about other places where lilies grew more beautiful than it and where life was one endless party.

Visit after visit the little bird humiliated the lily until the lily wondered if it had a right to be called a lily at all. So the lily began to worry. "I'm inferior and insignificant," the lily said to itself, "If I had only been placed somewhere else, under different circumstances, then I might become the most magnificent lily in the field!"

Day after day the bird flew back and forth and with each visit the lily became more despondent. Finally, the lily confided in the little bird. And the bird agreed to help. Early the next morning the little bird arrived and pecked away at the soil around the lily's root. In time, the lily was free. And, according to their plan to relocate the lily to a better place, the little bird picked up the lily in its beak and flew off to replant the lily in a new place where life would be magnificent, full. and happy.

But, on the way the lily wilted, withered, and died.

Is the grass always greener on the other side? Does my contentment rest in where I am or in where I am not? Do I get preoccupied with wanting more and more and more, and wanting to be somewhere else, wanting to beat my competition that I forget the dignity of my own humanity and the graciousness of my Creator?

"If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers--most of which are never even seen--don't you think he'll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I'm trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God's giving" -- Jesus, Matt. 6:30-31.

Holy Foolishness

"We know we are deep in His presence when we notice in ourselves a holy foolishness" (Thomas More).

Most of us never get there. We're not sure we want to get there. Holy foolishness is not one of the top ten experiences on our spiritual wish list. Holy composure, holy mysticism, holy awe, holy silence--these might make our list, not holy foolishness.

Isn't there enough religious foolishness already in the world? Who wants more?

But something strange happens when people who hunger for God are unexpectedly filled with an all but unbearable voltage of God's presence. His intrusion is so violent that it causes an eruption of uncontainable praise and worship. Our souls are too small to contain God's invasion. We cannot possibly sit still; we cannot stay quiet. Something has to give.

It is as the old spiritual says,

"Sit down, Brother!"
"I can't sit down!"
"Sit down, Brother!"
"I can't sit down!"
"Sit down, Brother!"
"I can't sit down.
I just got to heaven
and I can't sit down."

Cold composure, controlled sanctity won't work in times like this. (What has cold religion done for anyone anyway?)

Warning: holy foolishness is a risk to normal religious life. It is Spirit-ignited wildfire. Watch out. If the Wind blows on the flames, they'll spread out of control.

Holy foolishness. Are we ready for it?

"Do not quench the Spirit" (I Th. 5:9).

Where Would Jesus Go To Church?

Where would Jesus go to church?

To my church, of course!

Like faithful Jews in his day, Jesus went to synagogue. But then he didn't have a lot of choices. If Jesus was going to worship, the local synagogue was his only choice.

We have choices. Check out your Yellow Pages. The church-of-your-choice is listed between Chiropractors and Clinics--Mental Health. Interesting companions.

Would Jesus visit High Church? High Church gives the appearance of having everything worked out. The liturgy covers the seasons of our lives. There is something secure, solid, peaceful about repetition of religious ritual like drinking a good cup of coffee every morning at the same time out of the same mug. It fits the moment.

How about Low Church? Would Jesus visit Low Church where unstructured worship and shoot-from-the-hip sermons stir up lazy emotions and excite the soul? In Low Church a quiet service is no service; planning is anathema to the freedom of the Spirit; unstirred emotions a failure. There is something exciting about spontaneity.

Maybe Jesus would be more comfortable in Middle Church where the best of both worlds are embraced--order and freedom, planning and spontaneity? Middle Church may not have God figured out, but they're well on their way. In Middle Church people sit in the same seat, sing the same songs, give the same amount, and listen to variations of the same sermons. Occasionally, something surprises them.

So, where would Jesus go to church? Would he rotate between them all? Would he go at all? Which one does he prefer? High? Low? Middle? Do we know?

"O friend, do you not have a sense of the way to the Father? Then you must press your spirit to bow daily before God, and wait for breathings to you from his Spirit" (Isaac Penington).

Who Am I?

"Who am I?" The question Bonhoeffer asked himself while confined in a German prison cell. "Who am I? They often tell me I step from my cell's confinement calmly, cheerfully, firmly. like a Squire from his country house."

Am I what others see? Or am I only what I know myself to be? Soul-rocking questions. Questions begging to be asked and answered.

"Who am I?" Bold, confident, self-assured or timid, insecure, self-demeaning? Am I both at once? Do I wear a mask of confidence to conceal a timid soul? Have I played the pretence game so long that I can no longer distinguish the real me from the phony me?

"Who am I?" One or the other? Does it matter? Am I one person today and another person tomorrow? Am I one person in one situation and different person in a different situation? Does it matter?

It's confusing.

God has no difficulty with these questions: "I AM WHO I AM," He announced to Moses. "I am all that I appear to be. No inner contradictions. Holy wholeness. Nothing changes. Love without compromise. Truth without shading. Purity without blemish. I AM!"

And that was enough for Moses. It was enough for him to know the God who is present, personal, and ready to act. It was enough for Moses to know that God was not abstract, impersonal, and weak. It was enough for Moses to know God knows who He is the I AM in whom all of life finds its center.

The name spoken from the burning shrub means God is present and personal with me. He is here. Now. Present. Powerful. Compassionate. Forgiving. Merciful. Ready to help.

No more self made gods. No more gods to be bribed, flattered, or appeased. No more political, economic, intellectual, or religious gods that promise more than they give and over time drain every ounce of life from my soul.

"I AM WHO I AM" does not define God. God cannot be defined. It describes Him, but it doesn't tell everything. It says, "I am really here." And that's enough for now.

So, I drag my confused soul before I AM. There, in His loving reflection, I see who I am. And there I put to rest these swirling questions that haunt my soul.

Breaking Bad

It was nothing. Nothing significant. Nothing earthshaking. Nothing. But it mattered to me. I missed an easy pitch shot while playing a par five yesterday. My drive from the tee box was nearly perfect, my second shot with a fairway wood was equally good. My ball was 60 yards off the green. A nice pitch shot and I'm putting for birdie or par.

But I skulled the pitch shot. My ball dribbled less than ten embarrassing yards, stopped, and stared at me as if to say, "You dummy!"

I slammed the leading edge of my pitching wedge into the ground! "Damn! Any golfer worth their salt can make that shot!"

Anger is a hard taskmaster. Without warning it bubbles out of my soul like hot oil. No one was scorched. It was over in minutes. But it didn't improve my game or reduce my score. I couldn't take the shot over. What was done was done. I had to live with it.

Maybe I think I'm a better golfer than I am? Maybe I hold myself to a higher expectations than I have the right to? I seldom practice. I haven't sought help from a PGA professional. I play and repeat the same mistakes over and over and over. Yet a bad shot angers me.

Much of life is like that. We don't put in the time or discipline but we expect good results. We don't spend a real time with God but we expect God to show up and take care of us. I guess we're spiritual duffers. A lucky shot now and then, but fortunate to break 100.

Those who enter into Christ's being here for us no longer have to live under a continuous low-lying cloud. A new power is in operation. The Spirit of life in Christ, like a strong wind has magnificently cleared the air, freeing you from a fated lifetime of brutal tyranny at the hands of sin and death (Rom. 8:1,2, The Message).

Unrighteous anger finds its match in Him.

A Quiet Place

"We feel honestly the pull of many obligations and try to fulfill them all. And we are unhappy, uneasy, strained, oppressed, and fearful we shall be shallow... We have hints that there is a life vastly richer and deeper than all this hurried existence, a life of unhurried serenity and peace and power. If only we could slip into that Center!... We have seen and known some people who have found this deep Center of living, where the fretful calls of life are integrated, where No as well as Yes can be said with confidence." [Thomas Kelly]

If only we could slip into that Center!

Can we find the Center while we trudge knee deep in the muck of everyday life? Or like the spiritual mystics that preceded us, should we withdraw, drop out of the race, and find a quiet place? Will a few minutes of prayer, bible reading, and meditation do the trick? Or do we need a secret place, a private world in which we rediscover the Center of living?

In our quiet place we stop long enough to hear Papa's voice, we relax enough to receive Papa's peace, we lay down our defences long enough to receive Papa's strength.

Jesus waits for us there. He calls, "Come, learn of Me."

In our quiet place we "slip over into that Center!"

Still Waters

"Is there is a quiet stream underneath the fluctuating affirmation and rejections of my little world? Is there a still point where my life is anchored and from which I can reach out with hope and courage and confidence?" -- Henri J.M. Nouwen

Sometimes I lose a sense of rhythm. In those times my life resembles twigs spinning in endless circles by fierce tornado winds. One twig doesn't connect to the other. There is no symmetry, no center, no form. just chaotic movement spinning out of control.

Without a center point life unravels. Without a center point fear and despair creep under the doorway of my soul suffocating it with a dark, damp cloud. What can I do?

My memory is jolted by a shepherd's words. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He make me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul (Ps. 23:1,2).

Someone outside myself pulls me out of the whirlwind and centers me in his peace. The twigs come together. Life renewed. Soul refreshed. Mind quiet. Eyes see the Shepherd. Ears hear the Shepherd's voice.

Yes, there is a quiet stream underneath the fluctuating affirmation and rejections of my little world.