The Midweek Encounter: October 2015

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Just and Gracious

The last two mornings, I’ve gotten up early for quiet time with God before the days burst into full volume. Both mornings, the loud child has woken up just as I’m settling in with my Bible and warm beverage. It seems like if I’m making extra effort toward good, holy choices, God might bless me with quiet, sleepy children.

Photo Credit: Flickr user stockmonkeys.com

Perhaps that somewhat silly example isn’t a place where you can connect with the idea of being disappointed in our expectations of God; maybe one of these is a better fit: You followed what seemed like God’s will into college and a major; why has He given jobs to other people, but not to you? Your beloved relative sought to honor God with his life; why did God take him away at such a young age? You would be such good parents; why does God give children to others while you remain childless? You have honored God in relationships and waited for a godly spouse; why won’t He turn anyone’s head your way? Perhaps there’s another place you feel the sting of unmet expectation with God, and you question His fairness.

Pastor Dirk drew our attention to God’s fairness in the Parable of the Compassionate Employer (Matthew 20:1-16). A vineyard owner (who represents God in this story) hires workers at the beginning of the day, agreeing to pay them a fair amount for a day of work; four more times throughout the day he hires other workers, agreeing to pay them whatever is right. At the end of the story, the workers all go home with the same pay, whether they worked one hour or twelve. The workers who were in the field the longest see the owner’s generosity to others and expect more than they agreed to; they complain that He is unfair. Two things stand out in particular in this parable: the compassion and unexpected generosity of the vineyard owner, and the expectations of the workers.

Whether we look at our own lives (when loud children wake up at 6:15, or whatever your unfairness might be), or look through the eyes of the vineyard workers, we might be tempted to claim that God is unfair. Yet the Bible tells us that God is just, or righteous. How can we reconcile real life with Truth?

God is just. Justice means rendering to everyone what he is due. That’s an attribute of God that comforts me when I’m considering wrongs committed against me or injustice in the world. But I regularly forget what I am actually due:

“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and …the wages of sin is death.” (Romans 3:23, 6:23).

I sin. I deserve death. That’s what I’m due. Death is what’s fair.

It turns out, I don’t want God to be fair. When I am reminded of what I am due, I am massively thankful that God is not only just, but He is also compassionate, merciful and gracious. Fairness alone would demand that I die and be separated from God forever. But mercy and grace are where I find myself saved and hidden with God forever!

By His great mercy and costly grace, God made a way to satisfy justice – to pay the death that my sin owes – and to mercifully offer me life with Him instead: Jesus is the way. If we believe that Jesus’ death paid for our sin, we are made right with God and will live with Him eternally!

The vineyard parable offers the stark and needed reminder that we are not “underpaid,” regardless of our circumstances. The breath in my lungs is an undeserved gift from God. No actions on my part – even obedient ones – demand generous rewards; nothing I do earns me more of His favor. Additional gracious blessings should be just that: unexpected and undemanded, not earned rewards. God’s perspective is so much different than ours:

“Our God is in heaven; He does whatever pleases him.” Psalm 115:3

God’s grace won’t be constrained by our perception of fairness.

“What then shall we say? Is God unjust? Not at all! For he says to Moses, “I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.” It does not, therefore, depend on man’s desire or effort, but on God’s mercy.” Romans 9:14-16

Let’s let our joy in His blessings be full, unhindered by intolerance of His grace to others.

[Robin Bupp is married to Caleb, and they are from many places east of the Mississippi (but are calling Michigan home for the foreseeable future). A former high school science teacher, Robin is slowly turning the two Bupp kiddos into tiny nerds while they teach her lots of things, especially humility and patience.]

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Getting Grace

[The Midweek Encounter is a ministry of Encounter Church in Kentwood, MI. These posts are reflections on Sunday's message, which can be heard here each week: http://myencounterchurch.org/#/messages-media]

When we read the story of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector, we may not immediately want to identify with either of main characters. Taxes aren’t generally very popular, so anything associated with them gets a bad rap, and especially the tax collectors in Jesus’ day. As for the Pharisees, Jesus repeatedly warned his followers to not be like them, and the Pharisees were some of the people who ultimately saw to it that Jesus be crucified.

Unfortunately, we can’t continue not identifying with either of the characters for long. Personally, I found myself muttering “Oh crap” under my breath as Pastor Dirk described the actions of the Pharisee. Because if I’m going to be one of the characters in this story, it would definitely be that guy.

I’m pretty involved at Encounter—I write these Midweeks (clearly), I’m a youth leader, I facilitate the Women & Wine group, and a few other things. None of those are bad, but they also aren’t going to get me to heaven. They don’t make me any more or less holy than someone who’s involved in eighteen church activities or someone who hasn’t been to church in years. We can do years and years of good service, both in the church and out, but none of it counts in regards to our eternal salvation.

Photo Credit: Flickr User kelly.sikkema, Creative Commons

All the work in the world won’t get us to heaven, which is at the same time deeply freeing and deeply terrifying. It’s only through God’s grace that anyone, ever, gets declared righteous in his eyes.

This is what the Pharisee in Luke 18 did not understand. Instead of receiving the gift of grace, he ran after religious accomplishments that could be counted and totaled up to prove that he was worthy. Though he tried to make himself sound humble, he ended up doing the exact opposite, showing how proud he was of his accomplishments—accomplishments that could never achieve what he wanted them to. I’m kind of with the Pharisee on this one—there’s a part of me that thinks it would be nice, or at least a lot easier, if there was a “Get to Heaven” checklist with certain accomplishments to tick off.
• Pray every day and really mean it
• Read the entire Bible
• Love your neighbor
• Lead a Bible study
• Go to church every week
Check them all off, and it’s an automatic “Salvation card” for us. Except that’s not how gifts work.

The tax collector, on the other hand, had done so many wrong things he knew the only way he could become right with God was not through his own doing, but through God’s. He humbled himself to a place of knowing he’d done wrong and, if anything was going to change, the first move would need to come from God.

That’s how God works—he makes the first move in saving us.

Grace is a gift, and gifts can’t be manipulated or controlled, only received. I would much rather have it be something I can understand and control, can work harder to achieve for myself, than have it be so wildly out of my control. It’s also one of the beautiful things about grace, though. It’s so much bigger than us, so much purer than anything our human selves are capable of offering, so much more powerful than we’ll ever really understand. So while we can’t earn grace, we can receive it and offer back our thanks.

[Brianna DeWitt believes in Jesus, surrounding yourself with good people, and that desserts are best when they involve chocolate and peanut butter. She writes about faith, growing up, and whatever else pops into her head on her own blog, and tweets (largely about food) at @bwitt722.]

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Trading Good for Best

If someone called me shrewd, I don’t think I’d take it entirely as a compliment. There’s a cleverness that goes with being shrewd, but also a kind of sneaky underhandedness I’d rather not be associated with. So in Luke 16:1-9, when Jesus is essentially telling his followers to be shrewd, it’s a direction that doesn’t quite make sense to me.

Photo Credit: Flickr User Holly Norval, Creative Commons

The manager tells at least two people to short change his boss, seemingly so that he, the manager, can benefit from it. When his boss finds out, instead of being furious over being cheated out of four hundred and fifty gallons of oil and two hundred bushels of wheat, the boss applauds how the manager shrewdly planned for the future. While there is still much about this story I don’t fully understand, I think there is a piece that I’ve begun to: His methods may not be the most applause-worthy, but the manager is planning for the future, not focused on the now.

With this story, Jesus isn’t telling us to be shrewd with just anything—he’s telling us to be shrewd with the things that matter. In order to do this, we first have to have a right understanding of what “things that matter” really are. To put it simply, most of what we can physically taste, touch, or smell probably doesn’t qualify. Money, cars, houses, phones, and so many of the things we strive after and spend our time on simply aren’t worth it. Jesus is telling us to be shrewd about spending our lives in pursuit of real, lasting goodness, not the fleeting goodness we’re so accustomed to. As Jesus says in Matthew 6:19-21, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

This week, maybe we need to spend time evaluating how well our lives reflect our understanding of eternal significance. It doesn’t necessarily mean we need to get rid of all our possessions and spend all our time praying and reading the Bible, because we do still need to live on this earth for as long as God allows us to—but maybe we do need to reprioritize a few things. A lot of good, honorable things demand our time, talent, and treasure, but sometimes even good things need to go when they get in the way. Whether it’s how we spend our money, the way we treat our family, friends, and coworkers, or the things we devote our time to, would others be able to tell by looking at them that our true goal in life isn’t to simply live as comfortably and easily as possible?

Are we spending on good things, or the best things?

It might be a hobby that’s gotten out of hand, a relationship that’s become unhealthy, or anything else preventing us from focusing on the ultimate treasure we have in Christ. The sacrifice of getting rid of it may feel like too much, but we can trust that God will fill the seeming hole in our lives with something even better—more of himself.

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Invitations

“Who is God for?” Is there a more wrestled with question in life? In the parable of the Great Banquet this week, we found Jesus sitting at the dinner table of a Pharisee. (Luke 14:15-24) Sometime during the meal, Jesus was asked a very similar question, which Pastor Dirk rephrased as “Who is God for?” The Jewish believers around the table were expecting a particular answer. If we had the courage to ask Jesus the same question, we might also have an answer in mind.

Photo Credit: Flickr user Vilseskogen

Some of us might feel a bit behind the game, unready for Jesus. We know Christians who seem to have it all together – serving on every ministry team with ease, reading their Bible in Greek, teaching their kids hymns instead of Taylor Swift – and so we feel un-together. Our culture, and especially our Christian sub-culture, doesn’t highly value messy people. So sometimes we just act like it’s all together; but if we can take a humble look at our lives, we know we’re a mess. We are undeserving of Jesus.

In this parable, Jesus tells us that we – the messy, undeserving leftovers – are invited! We are the ones He chases down and beckons to come and feast!

Tucked away in the Old Testament is a real story from King David’s life that sheds some light on this idea. King Saul sinned and was rejected by God, so God sent Samuel to anoint David as the next king. Sometime later, he killed Goliath and became widely beloved and praised. In fact, his popularity made Saul (still king) so jealous that he wanted David killed. So David fled, all alone, to the desert and hid in a cave.

“All those who were in distress or in debt or discontented gathered around him, and he became their leader.” (1 Samuel 22:2) Like Snow White, his cave was filled with Dopey and Sleepy and Grumpy; unfortunately he was missing Happy and Doc. (I’m not sure where Sneezy and Bashful fit in this analogy!) David didn’t start off his leadership with a group of strong, wise, upstanding guys. It was a bunch of outlaws, debtors, and grumps. And David, a man after God’s heart (1 Samuel 13:14, Acts 13:22), doesn’t turn them away, but transforms them into his best men, his circle of trust, his go-to guys. They weren’t the guys David needed; they were the guys who needed Him.

And so it is with us at God’s table. He doesn’t need us there; we don’t bring anything He doesn’t already have. He’s not hoping we’ll bring our proverbial Jell-O salad or famous cookies. We’re invited to the table because we desperately need Him, and He graciously provides more than we could ever ask for.

What good news for all of us who are still in progress and not all together! This is the gospel – the good news – that Jesus has come for the messy; the physician comes to heal the sick, not those who are well.

(There is a caution here for us good-at-church folks: If we feel like we deserve an invitation based on our church attendance or checklist of good works, we are like the first three guests. Do we tally our attempts at righteousness, while ignoring our humanness and depravity, and then feel entitled to an audience with Him? And since we feel like we deserve an invitation, do we put God off until later, holding back from Him until we’re older or married? Until the kids grow up or we’ve settled into our house and job? Until we’ve paid off our student loans or our mortgage?

Let us not miss the invitation!

Let’s not eat the hors d’oeuvres of the kingdom while declining the invitation to the Banquet!)

Or perhaps we are a bit further down the road with Jesus; we know that we know that we know that we’re going to the feast – we are more like the servant in this story. When we ask Jesus “Who are you for?” we’re thinking about the people we might hesitate to invite. We like to invite people who mostly have it together, and are just missing Jesus. Instead we hear Him send us to the complicated, unclean, and not-so-nice; messy people. Undeserving people. People who will laugh at us when we invite them. People who might mock us. His invitation is for those who will need to be encouraged, to be compelled. If they are going to believe that He is a God who loves and desires the undeserving, we will have to love them as they don’t deserve. We will have to love them with His love. Nothing less will convince them that they are invited and desired, messy as they are, to His table.

“Who is God for?” What answer do you anticipate?

God is for the broken, the messy, the unexpected, the hurting. He does not require our self-perfection or readiness; He desires that we need Him and that we want Him; that we rest in His love and feast at His table.