Stop being so childish. Grow up. Act your age…reprimands that as an adult I have both given and received. It is true – there is a time to grow up and learn to deal with things in an adult fashion. In 1 Corinthians 13:11 Paul makes this observation about himself: “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.” (NIV) Like Paul, I want to put my childish ways behind me. I have to remind myself that there is no longer a place for foot stomping, temper tantrums or a world view that revolves around ‘me, me me’...as tempting as they may sound.
But there is a place for child-likeness. There is a place for a child’s heart. Jesus says so. In a world that didn’t value the young, Jesus placed great worth upon these little ones. We are familiar with the image of him blessing the children, but there’s more to it than that. Look closely at the words Jesus spoke:
“Some people brought their little children to Jesus so he could touch them, but his followers told them to stop. When Jesus saw this, he was upset and said to them, "Let the little children come to me. Don't stop them, because the kingdom of God belongs to people who are like these children. I tell you the truth, you must accept the kingdom of God as if you were a little child, or you will never enter it." Then Jesus took the children in his arms, put his hands on them, and blessed them. (Mark 10:13-16; NCV, emphasis mine)
With a toddler of my own, I’m beginning to get a sense of what he was talking about. There is no doubt in my mind that God has a special place in his heart for children. Otherwise, why would that beautiful, whimsical and sheer delightful world of the child have been part of his plan? Surely we could have been born knowing what we needed to know, self-reliant and independent from the get go. There is something important about the process of growing up, something of which we are never supposed to forget. As I watch the physical, emotional, mental and spiritual development of my son, I can’t help but learn a lot about myself, my faith and my God in the process.
Two-year-old Possum loves the Sabbath School lesson. He had heard the same story every night for a month but was still excited by it, his little mind comprehending the basics of the account. Peter and John came across a lame man, and in the name of Jesus were able to heal him. Every night Possum questioned why the man couldn’t walk and every night I explained that his legs were ‘broken’ but that through the power of Jesus he was healed and could walk again. There were hoorays and claps from my little one when the man stood up upon his healing. By the end of the month he knew the story so well he could complete the sentences and help tell the narrative.
A few weeks later we were out at the clothesline hanging out the never-ending mountain of washing that our household seems to generate. There was a large beetle under the clothesline that was distinctly…well…dead. All six feet were in the air and the beetle lay motionless on its back. Possum, curious, went to investigate.
“Mummy, why beetle not moving?” he asked me, earnest eyes looking for the explanation that would satisfy his thirst for knowledge.
“Because the beetle is dead, darling,” I replied. He had a basic knowledge of death having just been to the funeral of a much-loved church member.
“Like Rosie died?” he asked, just checking his understanding.
“That’s right, just like Rosie,” I responded, pegging another item on the line. Little Possum pondered for a moment and crouched down on his haunches over the beetle, like only a toddler can. With the confident voice of authority he spoke.
“In the name of Jesus, stand up and walk.” I stifled my giggles of delight at his faith and knelt over the beetle with him, explaining that although Jesus could heal the beetle, we would probably have to wait until he came back again and took us all back to live with him for that to happen. But the magnitude of Possum's statement struck me. He had greater faith than I. And upon reflection, I may not have been surprised to see the beetle roll over and start walking. What I had processed and rationalised through my adult mind as an impossibility, Possum viewed as an opportunity for God to heal. The story is cute, but more importantly it is a profound example of what it means to have faith like a child.
I have also learned the power of forgiveness from Possum. We had a particularly trying Tuesday where he was being what can only be described as two (anyone with a toddler will understand). He had been reprimanded severely for running away from me at playgroup.
Later that night at bedtime prayers I took the opportunity to have our first real discussion about sin and how we can ask Jesus to forgive us. A simplistic explanation, yes, but it was enough for a two-year-old to grasp. When I asked Possum what he had done that was wrong he said very sincerely, “My runned ‘way from Mummy.” I told him how he could pray and ask Jesus to forgive him and everything would be OK again. As he bowed his head, tears filled my eyes as the little voice next to me said, “Dear Jesus, please ‘give me for running ‘way from Mummy. Amen.” Opening my eyes I looked upon his face to see it glowing. I can honestly say he felt the burden of sin lifted from his tiny shoulders. He felt and knew the power of forgiveness. I don’t know if I can ever recall experiencing that myself in such a tangible way, but through my little boy I was privileged to bear witness to another one of heaven’s miracles.
In The Adventist Home, Ellen G White talks about how powerful the presence of God can be in our little ones’ lives. Commenting on Jesus words in Mark 10, she writes:
He knew that these children would listen to His counsel and accept Him as their Redeemer, while those who were worldly-wise and hardhearted would be less likely to follow Him and find a place in the kingdom of God. These little ones, by coming to Christ and receiving His advice and benediction, had His image and His gracious words stamped upon their plastic minds, never to be effaced. We should learn a lesson from this act of Christ, that the hearts of the young are most susceptible to the teachings of Christianity, easy to influence toward piety and virtue, and strong to retain the impressions received. (page 275)
I can only agree wholeheartedly. Without the cynicism, head knowledge and rational thought that accompanies growing up, I believe our littlest disciples truly experience God in a way that we can only imagine. Possum has not yet been hardened by the world, he does not have the understanding to question on a logical or scientific or rational basis. He purely believes in a God who loves him and experiences first hand the expression of that love. Sure, he’s got a lot to learn. (Just the other day he was asked who made the stars – his answer? Nanny Thel. Now as much as that pleased Nanny Thel, we have a long way to go in the spiritual education of our beautiful son!) However the fact remains that God is touching his heart now. God doesn’t wait until our children reach 5 or 10 or 15 – he speaks to them and through them from the moment they are born – and we as parents and caregivers can facilitate that process and partner with God in shaping and moulding his most wonderful works of art.
As a parent I am delighted by Possum's mental development and love to hear his growing vocabulary. I am thrilled at his physical development and get a kick out of watching him ride a bike without training wheels. I am excited by his emotional development and am happy when he shows concern for a crying friend. But my greatest joy comes from watching him develop a relationship with God. The gentle sounds of him singing ‘Jesus Loves Me’ to himself before going to sleep; when he points out the ‘bootiful’ sunset that Jesus has made; when he speaks words of life to a dead beetle – these are the moments I treasure most. Become like a child? I’m trying, Lord. For the kingdom of God belongs to people such as this.
Showing posts with label Christian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christian. Show all posts
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Chuckling and Church?
Imagine for a moment that we are playing a word game, a game of association. I say a word and you have to say the first thing that comes to mind. Ready?
Sharp. What did you think of? Knife, tongue, needle – or did you go straight to the opposite, blunt?
Ready for the next one…
Sport. Ball, bat, football, basketball…what was your association?
OK, here comes the clincher.
Church. What do you associate with the word ‘church’? Worship, prayer, singing, silence, boredom, God…there would be as many answers as there are people. But I’m wondering if you ever thought of the word ‘laughter’? Seriously.
I’ve been to many church services in my life and do you know the ones I remember the most? The ones where I had an emotional response. Now I’m not suggesting that church should be solely about how it makes me feel. That would be shallow and hollow at best, self-seeking and selfish at worst. But the fact remains that the moments of worship that stand out in my memory all have an emotional label attached. Those times when I cried, those times when I was angered or challenged – I remember them well. I also remember when I laughed.
But is it OK to laugh in church? Is it appropriate to have a quiet chuckle or a belly laugh during worship? Like a child who asks his parents if he can go to a party, the answer is the same – it depends. For the party, it depends on who is going, where it is, whether there will be adults in attendance. For laughter in church it depends on what sort of laughter, the motive behind it and the impact it has on the message being preached.
Just like word association can often result in opposites (say the word ‘black’ and most people will think ‘white’), let’s look at the times when it definitely wouldn’t be OK or appropriate to laugh in church.
Firstly, it’s not OK if it’s at someone else’s expense. Now I’m not talking about those times when someone makes a faux par that is just too funny not to giggle at. I’m talking about the hurtful, degrading kind of laughter that all of us are capable of, the teasing, taunting laughter that has the sole intention of bringing pain to the subject. That sort of laughter is definitely not OK in church – but then again, it’s not OK anywhere else either. We are supposed to build each other up, not tear each other down.
Another sort of laughter that would be inappropriate would be anything that is the result of an off-colour joke. We’ve all heard them, most of us have told them. Church is not the place. Perhaps that would be a good rule of thumb for us all – if we wouldn’t say it in the foyer to someone at church, then we shouldn’t say it at the footy ground or on the bus either.
So we’ve established laughter at someone else’s expense and laughter that is associated with anything that is not pure or good or lovely are not OK. But what about the rest of the spectrum of things that make us chuckle? What about those jokes that you could happily share with your grandmother? You know the ones – Which Bible character had no parents? Joshua, son of Nun. (OK, my joke repertoire is sadly lacking, but you get the point…) How do they stack up in church? Well, at this point the content is not in question – there’s nothing offensive or off-colour, nothing that pokes fun at someone else. But then we come to the impact it has. If you whispered this to your pew-mate at the peak of the pastor’s serious plea for people to make a commitment to Christ, well, let’s just say your timing is off. It wouldn’t be OK. It has the potential to detract from the worship experience of you, your mate and those around you. And all of us can attest to how hard it is to contain a fit of the giggles. The more they need to be contained, the funnier the situation seems until someone either makes an inappropriate snorting noise or spontaneously combusts. It’s not exactly conducive to worship. The joke may, however, be perfectly appropriate to share in the carpark or at the pot-luck lunch…just not during grace.
So that leaves us with a thorny question. Is any laughter OK in church? My answer would be yes. If we are created in the image of God, then there can be no argument that God has a sense of humour (just take a look at the platypus if you don’t believe me). So working on the premise that laughter and humour are not some evil force that need to be eradicated from our lives, how do we use this precious gift to bring glory to God?
Psalm 126 sheds some light on the subject. The Israelites had been held enslaved in Zion for many years. The Lord brought them out of captivity. Whilst they were in shock and disbelief at their good fortune, verse 2 tells us how they responded:
“Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy.” (NIV)
Were they worshipping? You bet! This was the sort of laughter that emerged from the well-spring of gratitude and joy from within their now free hearts. This was true worship.
I don’t know about you, but sometimes when I find something so overwhelming, so amazing, so unfathomable, my first response is to laugh. Not because I’m making fun of it or being silly, but because my finite mind is trying to comprehend something incomprehensible. My laughter is an expression of my awe. In the right place at the right time, that can be worship.
And what about those times when things are just plain funny? We had a Kids Church program recently that was a highlight for the entire congregation. One of the special features of Kids Church is that the adults come down the front for the adult’s story. The children are laughing even before we begin, just at the sight of their parents and grandparents sitting cross-legged on the floor, ready to listen to a story with a spiritual message. The paradox of the circumstance is not lost on them – or the adults for that matter.
The adults helped re-enact the story of the Unforgiving Servant, which can be found in Matthew 18. This particular story was chosen as it tied in beautifully with the theme of the day, forgiveness. Entering into the spirit of things, the adults gave a convincing performance that quite frankly, had everyone in stitches. It didn’t detract from the message. It didn’t take away from the moral of the story. In fact I would argue that it enhanced the message and emblazoned the moral on the hearts and minds of both adults and children that day. They won’t forget that particular parable in a hurry. It was worship – just a different sort of worship.
Those who would disagree with my perspective would probably use one word in their argument against laughter – reverence. But when did reverence come to only be associated with silence? According to the dictionary, reverence is “a feeling or attitude of deep respect tinged with awe” 1. Reverence is not the ability to sit through a sermon without making a squeak. It is not necessarily speaking only in hushed tones. Reverence, is in fact less of an action and more of an attitude. To me, that means it is possible for me to whisper and be irreverent, or enjoy a good belly laugh and be totally reverent to my God. It’s all a matter of heart posture.
So next time you feel the urge to laugh in church, run through a checklist and make sure it’s reverent kind of laughter, the kind that God would join in with rather than frown at. And if it’s still appropriate, go ahead and enjoy the wonderful and joyous experience of being a child of God. Because in heaven, I’m pretty sure there’s going to be a lot of Godly laughter. Why don’t we get some practice here on earth? - It might just make today a day to remember.
1. Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1). Retrieved April 25, 2008, from Dictionary.com website: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/reverence
Sharp. What did you think of? Knife, tongue, needle – or did you go straight to the opposite, blunt?
Ready for the next one…
Sport. Ball, bat, football, basketball…what was your association?
OK, here comes the clincher.
Church. What do you associate with the word ‘church’? Worship, prayer, singing, silence, boredom, God…there would be as many answers as there are people. But I’m wondering if you ever thought of the word ‘laughter’? Seriously.
I’ve been to many church services in my life and do you know the ones I remember the most? The ones where I had an emotional response. Now I’m not suggesting that church should be solely about how it makes me feel. That would be shallow and hollow at best, self-seeking and selfish at worst. But the fact remains that the moments of worship that stand out in my memory all have an emotional label attached. Those times when I cried, those times when I was angered or challenged – I remember them well. I also remember when I laughed.
But is it OK to laugh in church? Is it appropriate to have a quiet chuckle or a belly laugh during worship? Like a child who asks his parents if he can go to a party, the answer is the same – it depends. For the party, it depends on who is going, where it is, whether there will be adults in attendance. For laughter in church it depends on what sort of laughter, the motive behind it and the impact it has on the message being preached.
Just like word association can often result in opposites (say the word ‘black’ and most people will think ‘white’), let’s look at the times when it definitely wouldn’t be OK or appropriate to laugh in church.
Firstly, it’s not OK if it’s at someone else’s expense. Now I’m not talking about those times when someone makes a faux par that is just too funny not to giggle at. I’m talking about the hurtful, degrading kind of laughter that all of us are capable of, the teasing, taunting laughter that has the sole intention of bringing pain to the subject. That sort of laughter is definitely not OK in church – but then again, it’s not OK anywhere else either. We are supposed to build each other up, not tear each other down.
Another sort of laughter that would be inappropriate would be anything that is the result of an off-colour joke. We’ve all heard them, most of us have told them. Church is not the place. Perhaps that would be a good rule of thumb for us all – if we wouldn’t say it in the foyer to someone at church, then we shouldn’t say it at the footy ground or on the bus either.
So we’ve established laughter at someone else’s expense and laughter that is associated with anything that is not pure or good or lovely are not OK. But what about the rest of the spectrum of things that make us chuckle? What about those jokes that you could happily share with your grandmother? You know the ones – Which Bible character had no parents? Joshua, son of Nun. (OK, my joke repertoire is sadly lacking, but you get the point…) How do they stack up in church? Well, at this point the content is not in question – there’s nothing offensive or off-colour, nothing that pokes fun at someone else. But then we come to the impact it has. If you whispered this to your pew-mate at the peak of the pastor’s serious plea for people to make a commitment to Christ, well, let’s just say your timing is off. It wouldn’t be OK. It has the potential to detract from the worship experience of you, your mate and those around you. And all of us can attest to how hard it is to contain a fit of the giggles. The more they need to be contained, the funnier the situation seems until someone either makes an inappropriate snorting noise or spontaneously combusts. It’s not exactly conducive to worship. The joke may, however, be perfectly appropriate to share in the carpark or at the pot-luck lunch…just not during grace.
So that leaves us with a thorny question. Is any laughter OK in church? My answer would be yes. If we are created in the image of God, then there can be no argument that God has a sense of humour (just take a look at the platypus if you don’t believe me). So working on the premise that laughter and humour are not some evil force that need to be eradicated from our lives, how do we use this precious gift to bring glory to God?
Psalm 126 sheds some light on the subject. The Israelites had been held enslaved in Zion for many years. The Lord brought them out of captivity. Whilst they were in shock and disbelief at their good fortune, verse 2 tells us how they responded:
“Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy.” (NIV)
Were they worshipping? You bet! This was the sort of laughter that emerged from the well-spring of gratitude and joy from within their now free hearts. This was true worship.
I don’t know about you, but sometimes when I find something so overwhelming, so amazing, so unfathomable, my first response is to laugh. Not because I’m making fun of it or being silly, but because my finite mind is trying to comprehend something incomprehensible. My laughter is an expression of my awe. In the right place at the right time, that can be worship.
And what about those times when things are just plain funny? We had a Kids Church program recently that was a highlight for the entire congregation. One of the special features of Kids Church is that the adults come down the front for the adult’s story. The children are laughing even before we begin, just at the sight of their parents and grandparents sitting cross-legged on the floor, ready to listen to a story with a spiritual message. The paradox of the circumstance is not lost on them – or the adults for that matter.
The adults helped re-enact the story of the Unforgiving Servant, which can be found in Matthew 18. This particular story was chosen as it tied in beautifully with the theme of the day, forgiveness. Entering into the spirit of things, the adults gave a convincing performance that quite frankly, had everyone in stitches. It didn’t detract from the message. It didn’t take away from the moral of the story. In fact I would argue that it enhanced the message and emblazoned the moral on the hearts and minds of both adults and children that day. They won’t forget that particular parable in a hurry. It was worship – just a different sort of worship.
Those who would disagree with my perspective would probably use one word in their argument against laughter – reverence. But when did reverence come to only be associated with silence? According to the dictionary, reverence is “a feeling or attitude of deep respect tinged with awe” 1. Reverence is not the ability to sit through a sermon without making a squeak. It is not necessarily speaking only in hushed tones. Reverence, is in fact less of an action and more of an attitude. To me, that means it is possible for me to whisper and be irreverent, or enjoy a good belly laugh and be totally reverent to my God. It’s all a matter of heart posture.
So next time you feel the urge to laugh in church, run through a checklist and make sure it’s reverent kind of laughter, the kind that God would join in with rather than frown at. And if it’s still appropriate, go ahead and enjoy the wonderful and joyous experience of being a child of God. Because in heaven, I’m pretty sure there’s going to be a lot of Godly laughter. Why don’t we get some practice here on earth? - It might just make today a day to remember.
1. Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1). Retrieved April 25, 2008, from Dictionary.com website: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/reverence
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
The Hunter (published 26 April 2008 in the RECORD)
(To see this article in the RECORD please go to http://record.adventistconnect.org/ and click on the April 26 issue.)
*******************
The hunter crouches, muscles tense, watching and waiting, waiting and watching. It is silent, except for the rush of blood pumping through veins and his shallow, rapid breathing. He runs the net through his fingers one more time, rough fibres chafing at his skin. It shouldn’t be long now.
There it is! In a single movement he launches himself from his hiding place and throws the net with such accuracy, such skill, that it is obvious he is an expert. He captures his prey quickly and subdues it. He hands it over to be destroyed. The hunter is victorious once more.
This is not the hunter’s first attempt. At first he was clumsy, unco-ordinated and plain unsuccessful. He has spent many hours honing his craft, practicing in controlled situations – all to prepare him for this moment. He has invested the time, the energy and the commitment to his cause to become a skilful hunter. It was a slow process, but with each catch it became increasingly natural, increasingly automatic – as though the very nerves in his body knew how to respond and when. Now, he could complete a capture with a minimum of fuss and expend a minimum of energy. He is truly the master of the hunt.
So what exactly, is in his net? What wild beast, savage and ferocious lies tangled within the knots and folds? Is it a jaguar, or a tiger, or some kind of fearsome reptile? No, it is indeed something far more sinister, more dangerous, more unexpected. It is something that lives on every continent in the world; it can be found on desert plains and mountain ridges, in the deepest valleys and rockiest outcrops; it is present in every race, every culture, every creed. In fact, it dwells within each member of the human race.
What lies at the bottom of the hunter’s net? His thoughts. The ideas, the inspirations, the concepts, the criticisms; the flashes of words that flicker through his brain at lightning speed. These are what he has worked so hard to subdue. These are the prey he has hunted and conquered. He has read the words of Paul and he has taken them seriously: “We capture every thought and make it give up and obey Christ.” 2 Corinthians 10:5 (NCV)
It wasn’t easy at first. Initially, he wasn’t even aware of many of the thoughts that trespassed his mind. They were so automatic, so momentary that it was hard to focus on them, let alone capture them. His first job was to listen - listen to the soundtrack of his life, the running commentary of ceaseless “brain chatter” that dwelled within his mind. Listening was harder than he thought. It took time, it took effort, it took commitment. But eventually, he could hear the inner workings of his thought processes more clearly. At times he was horrified by what he heard; other times he was confused, bewildered by the logic or lack thereof of his own thoughts. But still he listened.
Once his listening skills were honed and his senses alert to the thoughts that narrated his life, the hunter was then able to begin the process of thought catching. Using the Bible as his guide, he assessed each and every thought against what he knew to be true, right, honest, pure and good. The standard was high, the effort required monumental. Those thoughts that were acceptable, pleasing and obedient were allowed to continue and to grow. He nurtured those thoughts he knew would be pleasing to his Lord. Those thoughts that were contrary and disobedient were the ones he sought to capture.
Once captured, the hunter’s thoughts were made to give up and obey Christ. How? By being reworded, revised or replaced by Christ-like thoughts. It took effort, it took time, it took commitment, it took prayer. At times he won the battle and captured a net full of useless, negative, destructive thoughts. Other times his humanity prevailed and one got away. But he didn’t give up.
Today, he was once again successful. Crouched behind the foliage of his mind, a thought had been festering. It was a critical, hurtful thought that would only bring pain and destruction. It would bring no glory to God. With ease that only comes with practice, he had waited for the right moment and had cast his net. He had captured his dangerous prey and handed it over to his Master to be destroyed. His job complete, the hunter brushed himself down and continued on his way.
Imagine if each one of us took Paul’s advice seriously. How would it transform our relationships, our families, our churches if we took captive every thought and made it obedient to Christ? It takes time, it takes effort, it takes commitment. It’s something worth thinking about. After all, “As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.” Proverbs 23:7 (KJV).
*******************
The hunter crouches, muscles tense, watching and waiting, waiting and watching. It is silent, except for the rush of blood pumping through veins and his shallow, rapid breathing. He runs the net through his fingers one more time, rough fibres chafing at his skin. It shouldn’t be long now.
There it is! In a single movement he launches himself from his hiding place and throws the net with such accuracy, such skill, that it is obvious he is an expert. He captures his prey quickly and subdues it. He hands it over to be destroyed. The hunter is victorious once more.
This is not the hunter’s first attempt. At first he was clumsy, unco-ordinated and plain unsuccessful. He has spent many hours honing his craft, practicing in controlled situations – all to prepare him for this moment. He has invested the time, the energy and the commitment to his cause to become a skilful hunter. It was a slow process, but with each catch it became increasingly natural, increasingly automatic – as though the very nerves in his body knew how to respond and when. Now, he could complete a capture with a minimum of fuss and expend a minimum of energy. He is truly the master of the hunt.
So what exactly, is in his net? What wild beast, savage and ferocious lies tangled within the knots and folds? Is it a jaguar, or a tiger, or some kind of fearsome reptile? No, it is indeed something far more sinister, more dangerous, more unexpected. It is something that lives on every continent in the world; it can be found on desert plains and mountain ridges, in the deepest valleys and rockiest outcrops; it is present in every race, every culture, every creed. In fact, it dwells within each member of the human race.
What lies at the bottom of the hunter’s net? His thoughts. The ideas, the inspirations, the concepts, the criticisms; the flashes of words that flicker through his brain at lightning speed. These are what he has worked so hard to subdue. These are the prey he has hunted and conquered. He has read the words of Paul and he has taken them seriously: “We capture every thought and make it give up and obey Christ.” 2 Corinthians 10:5 (NCV)
It wasn’t easy at first. Initially, he wasn’t even aware of many of the thoughts that trespassed his mind. They were so automatic, so momentary that it was hard to focus on them, let alone capture them. His first job was to listen - listen to the soundtrack of his life, the running commentary of ceaseless “brain chatter” that dwelled within his mind. Listening was harder than he thought. It took time, it took effort, it took commitment. But eventually, he could hear the inner workings of his thought processes more clearly. At times he was horrified by what he heard; other times he was confused, bewildered by the logic or lack thereof of his own thoughts. But still he listened.
Once his listening skills were honed and his senses alert to the thoughts that narrated his life, the hunter was then able to begin the process of thought catching. Using the Bible as his guide, he assessed each and every thought against what he knew to be true, right, honest, pure and good. The standard was high, the effort required monumental. Those thoughts that were acceptable, pleasing and obedient were allowed to continue and to grow. He nurtured those thoughts he knew would be pleasing to his Lord. Those thoughts that were contrary and disobedient were the ones he sought to capture.
Once captured, the hunter’s thoughts were made to give up and obey Christ. How? By being reworded, revised or replaced by Christ-like thoughts. It took effort, it took time, it took commitment, it took prayer. At times he won the battle and captured a net full of useless, negative, destructive thoughts. Other times his humanity prevailed and one got away. But he didn’t give up.
Today, he was once again successful. Crouched behind the foliage of his mind, a thought had been festering. It was a critical, hurtful thought that would only bring pain and destruction. It would bring no glory to God. With ease that only comes with practice, he had waited for the right moment and had cast his net. He had captured his dangerous prey and handed it over to his Master to be destroyed. His job complete, the hunter brushed himself down and continued on his way.
Imagine if each one of us took Paul’s advice seriously. How would it transform our relationships, our families, our churches if we took captive every thought and made it obedient to Christ? It takes time, it takes effort, it takes commitment. It’s something worth thinking about. After all, “As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.” Proverbs 23:7 (KJV).
Friday, April 18, 2008
The Secret Service
It’s time for a change. You’re not sure why, but your nine to five job at the potter’s wheel just isn’t giving you the job satisfaction it used to. You’re feeling restless. You’re not sure what it is you want to do – something with a bit more excitement, a bit more risk. That’s when you spot it in the ‘Positions Vacant’ section of the Persian Times:
WANTED: Secret Service Agent. Loyal and trustworthy person required to serve in the palace of the King. Training will be provided. Must possess ability to stand perfectly still while looking interested at all times. Royal robes and handsome remuneration offered to the right man. All applications to be directed to King Artaxerxes.
Wow! This is it! The Secret Service. You couldn’t get much more exciting than that. And you’d get to work in the King’s palace, with the King himself, wearing royal robes. What an honour!
Of course you apply. You go through a gruelling interview process where you have to name the last thirty kings of Persia from tallest to shortest, and list the king’s 379 concubines in reverse alphabetical order. The psych test consists of some pretty straightforward questions: “Do you want to be King?” Check ‘NO’. “Are you planning on killing the King?” Ah, ‘NO’ again. Finally, your loyalty to the king is tested when you are asked if you are willing to lay your life on the line for His Majesty. You pass the tests with flying colours and humbly vow to serve the almighty King to the best of your ability as a member of the Secret Service.
You are well aware of the pitfalls and dangers of a position such as this. There are countless assassination plots at any one time. From straight out coups to subtle attacks, the king’s position is never safe. You imagine yourself protecting the King as he comes under fire from a hail of arrows, your bravery and skill displayed in a Crouching-Tiger-Hidden-Dragon-esque manouevre. As you fly through the air screaming a slow motion “Nooooooooooo!” you take an arrow in the chest for the King and die a hero.
You are overwhelmed when you are chosen to be The One. Out of all the applicants in the land, you are the man deemed fit to fulfil this important role. You bid a hasty goodbye to your family and skip merrily up to the palace door, presenting yourself for service.
You are treated with absolute honour. Firstly, you visit the tailor who whips up an outfit like you’ve never seen. If only that kid from school who used to laugh at your tattered sandals could see you now. Gold – real gold – lines your gown. Your extreme makeover continues with some accessories, a hair cut and some grooming tips on how to look your best at all times. After all, you’re in the public eye now. Paparazzi lurk at every corner.
Then comes the part you’ve been looking forward to most of all. Up until this point, no-one has said what it is you will actually be doing (that’s why it’s called the Secret Service). But now that you’ve cleared level 7 security checks, you’re about to find out. You’ve been working out lately and you know you’re looking ripped, so you’re expecting to be added to the list of the king’s personal bodyguards.
It is with great anticipations that one of the King’s advisors greets you and pronounces, “I now bestow upon you the instrument of your service, the tool through which you will ably and humbly serve your King.” Your heart is beating with sheer excitement. You’ve seen the swords those bodyguards carry and they are impressive. It lies on a cloth-covered table. Barely able to contain yourself, you shift from one foot to the other. Here it comes…
Like a child at Christmas you close your eyes and hold out your hands in anticipation. The aide places it in your hands with great pomp and ceremony. You open your eyes in wonder. You can’t believe it. Finally! You are a servant of the king. You hold in your hands…a cup. What? There must be some mistake. What happened to the spear, or the shield, or the bow? Wait a minute. You are going to hold a cup for the king? Surely not.
The realisation dawns on you. You are not part of the elite fighting force protecting the king. You are not going to march stoically beside him as he ventures outside the palace gates. No, you will stand, slightly to the left behind a veiled screen holding a cup. It is a pretty cup, this is true - gold, lots of jewels, engraved with the Kings’ seal. But it’s just a cup. You quickly run your hands over it, looking for the secret compartment that holds the weapon, but alas, it’s just a cup.
Apparently you are the Royal Cupbearer. Your disappointment is overwhelming. Your visions of grandeur are shattered. You’re going to be the pretty boy, dressed in finery, who stands silent all day behind a screen holding a cup. At some point during the day the king will grunt, or beckon or look slightly to the left and you will know that it is you he is seeking. Not because he is under attack and needs your expert fighting prowess. No, because he is thirsty. And you will pass him the cup, which he will put to his lips, then pass back to you again. It’s about as exciting as watching your fingernails grow – possibly less so.
Oh, and I forgot to mention – you could die at any moment. No, not from the sheer burden of carrying the king’s best golden goblet, but from poison. Any day now you could be writhing in agony on the floor, blood dripping from every crevice in your body. Just so you know. You see your job of the cupbearer is two fold. Yes, you pass the king his cup when he is thirsty. But here’s the catch - before you give it to him, you take a swig first. That’s right. Take a sip of what’s in the cup and count to ten. The king will be watching with interest.
It’s the Persian equivalent of being the President’s Chief Mail Opener. In the post-2001 terrorist era of white powder in the mail, it’s like being the one to personally open and lick all the president’s letters – just to see if that white powder really is anthrax – or icing sugar, as the case may be.
What a job. Cupbearer to the king. Impressive sounding, impressive looking, but not much chop really. Are you sure you want it?
The Bible tells the story of a cupbearer named Nehemiah. This was a guy who took his job seriously. Although he no doubt spent many boring hours standing like a sack of well dressed potatoes next to the king, he was a man of integrity, a man of principal. Royal cupbearer to the king may have been a poor second cousin to the real bodyguards who muscled and grunted their way around the palace, but a faithful cupbearer he would be. He took a job that had little going for it and made it his own. If that was what God was calling him to do, well then by golly he’d be the best he could be.
A few hundred years later, Jesus told a parable of the master and servants. There was a faithful servant who was left in charge of a small amount of money while his master was away. He took his job seriously and did the best he could with what he had. When the master returned, he praised him highly. “Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness!” Matthew 25:21 (NIV).
The same thing happened to Nehemiah. He was in charge of something small, but he was true and honest and trustworthy. And God had big plans for him.
How long did he serve the king before he got his real assignment? I’m not sure, but it was long enough for the king to learn about Nehemiah’s character. It was Artaxerxes who noticed Nehemiah was unusually sad. The king was concerned about his friend and wanted to help. He listened to Nehemiah and gave him permission to go and supervise the rebuilding of the wall around Jerusalem. He also bundled him up with gifts and letters to ensure safe passage along the way. Rebuilding the wall around the Holy City? Now that was God’s big plan for Nehemiah.
What is God calling you to do right now? It might be something significant, or it might be something small. Either way, be faithful in what you do, because God has something in store for you. He needs faithful people who will help fulfil His plans. Are you up to the task??
WANTED: Secret Service Agent. Loyal and trustworthy person required to serve in the palace of the King. Training will be provided. Must possess ability to stand perfectly still while looking interested at all times. Royal robes and handsome remuneration offered to the right man. All applications to be directed to King Artaxerxes.
Wow! This is it! The Secret Service. You couldn’t get much more exciting than that. And you’d get to work in the King’s palace, with the King himself, wearing royal robes. What an honour!
Of course you apply. You go through a gruelling interview process where you have to name the last thirty kings of Persia from tallest to shortest, and list the king’s 379 concubines in reverse alphabetical order. The psych test consists of some pretty straightforward questions: “Do you want to be King?” Check ‘NO’. “Are you planning on killing the King?” Ah, ‘NO’ again. Finally, your loyalty to the king is tested when you are asked if you are willing to lay your life on the line for His Majesty. You pass the tests with flying colours and humbly vow to serve the almighty King to the best of your ability as a member of the Secret Service.
You are well aware of the pitfalls and dangers of a position such as this. There are countless assassination plots at any one time. From straight out coups to subtle attacks, the king’s position is never safe. You imagine yourself protecting the King as he comes under fire from a hail of arrows, your bravery and skill displayed in a Crouching-Tiger-Hidden-Dragon-esque manouevre. As you fly through the air screaming a slow motion “Nooooooooooo!” you take an arrow in the chest for the King and die a hero.
You are overwhelmed when you are chosen to be The One. Out of all the applicants in the land, you are the man deemed fit to fulfil this important role. You bid a hasty goodbye to your family and skip merrily up to the palace door, presenting yourself for service.
You are treated with absolute honour. Firstly, you visit the tailor who whips up an outfit like you’ve never seen. If only that kid from school who used to laugh at your tattered sandals could see you now. Gold – real gold – lines your gown. Your extreme makeover continues with some accessories, a hair cut and some grooming tips on how to look your best at all times. After all, you’re in the public eye now. Paparazzi lurk at every corner.
Then comes the part you’ve been looking forward to most of all. Up until this point, no-one has said what it is you will actually be doing (that’s why it’s called the Secret Service). But now that you’ve cleared level 7 security checks, you’re about to find out. You’ve been working out lately and you know you’re looking ripped, so you’re expecting to be added to the list of the king’s personal bodyguards.
It is with great anticipations that one of the King’s advisors greets you and pronounces, “I now bestow upon you the instrument of your service, the tool through which you will ably and humbly serve your King.” Your heart is beating with sheer excitement. You’ve seen the swords those bodyguards carry and they are impressive. It lies on a cloth-covered table. Barely able to contain yourself, you shift from one foot to the other. Here it comes…
Like a child at Christmas you close your eyes and hold out your hands in anticipation. The aide places it in your hands with great pomp and ceremony. You open your eyes in wonder. You can’t believe it. Finally! You are a servant of the king. You hold in your hands…a cup. What? There must be some mistake. What happened to the spear, or the shield, or the bow? Wait a minute. You are going to hold a cup for the king? Surely not.
The realisation dawns on you. You are not part of the elite fighting force protecting the king. You are not going to march stoically beside him as he ventures outside the palace gates. No, you will stand, slightly to the left behind a veiled screen holding a cup. It is a pretty cup, this is true - gold, lots of jewels, engraved with the Kings’ seal. But it’s just a cup. You quickly run your hands over it, looking for the secret compartment that holds the weapon, but alas, it’s just a cup.
Apparently you are the Royal Cupbearer. Your disappointment is overwhelming. Your visions of grandeur are shattered. You’re going to be the pretty boy, dressed in finery, who stands silent all day behind a screen holding a cup. At some point during the day the king will grunt, or beckon or look slightly to the left and you will know that it is you he is seeking. Not because he is under attack and needs your expert fighting prowess. No, because he is thirsty. And you will pass him the cup, which he will put to his lips, then pass back to you again. It’s about as exciting as watching your fingernails grow – possibly less so.
Oh, and I forgot to mention – you could die at any moment. No, not from the sheer burden of carrying the king’s best golden goblet, but from poison. Any day now you could be writhing in agony on the floor, blood dripping from every crevice in your body. Just so you know. You see your job of the cupbearer is two fold. Yes, you pass the king his cup when he is thirsty. But here’s the catch - before you give it to him, you take a swig first. That’s right. Take a sip of what’s in the cup and count to ten. The king will be watching with interest.
It’s the Persian equivalent of being the President’s Chief Mail Opener. In the post-2001 terrorist era of white powder in the mail, it’s like being the one to personally open and lick all the president’s letters – just to see if that white powder really is anthrax – or icing sugar, as the case may be.
What a job. Cupbearer to the king. Impressive sounding, impressive looking, but not much chop really. Are you sure you want it?
The Bible tells the story of a cupbearer named Nehemiah. This was a guy who took his job seriously. Although he no doubt spent many boring hours standing like a sack of well dressed potatoes next to the king, he was a man of integrity, a man of principal. Royal cupbearer to the king may have been a poor second cousin to the real bodyguards who muscled and grunted their way around the palace, but a faithful cupbearer he would be. He took a job that had little going for it and made it his own. If that was what God was calling him to do, well then by golly he’d be the best he could be.
A few hundred years later, Jesus told a parable of the master and servants. There was a faithful servant who was left in charge of a small amount of money while his master was away. He took his job seriously and did the best he could with what he had. When the master returned, he praised him highly. “Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness!” Matthew 25:21 (NIV).
The same thing happened to Nehemiah. He was in charge of something small, but he was true and honest and trustworthy. And God had big plans for him.
How long did he serve the king before he got his real assignment? I’m not sure, but it was long enough for the king to learn about Nehemiah’s character. It was Artaxerxes who noticed Nehemiah was unusually sad. The king was concerned about his friend and wanted to help. He listened to Nehemiah and gave him permission to go and supervise the rebuilding of the wall around Jerusalem. He also bundled him up with gifts and letters to ensure safe passage along the way. Rebuilding the wall around the Holy City? Now that was God’s big plan for Nehemiah.
What is God calling you to do right now? It might be something significant, or it might be something small. Either way, be faithful in what you do, because God has something in store for you. He needs faithful people who will help fulfil His plans. Are you up to the task??
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
