The Bridge

“Blessed are those whose lawless deeds are forgiven, and whose sins are covered; blessed is the one against whom the Lord will never count sin.” (Romans 4:7-8 NET_FL)

My life is broken. It cycles like this—sin, languish, repent, back to sin. The truly dangerous part is languishing. That’s where sin multiplies. Wallowing in the swamp of self-defeat, thick with guilt and disappointment, I hate myself and figure God must be repulsed too. The mud sucks at my feet and holds me back from repentance. I feel too weak to ever leave the bog. I may as well stay and give in to sin.

A bridge gleams with rays of gold over the sulfurous mire. Its name is Grace. It was the most expensive bridge ever constructed, and also the most useful. I’m invited to skip directly from sin to repentance. I don’t have to spend another minute in languish.

The bridge is proof that I was wrong about God hating me. Even at the height of my rebellion, Father-God loved me. As I still love my two-year old child when she misbehaves, God, too, never pulls his love back. He wants me near him, even after I sin. That’s why he paid for the bridge—to carry me from sin to himself as fast as possible.

Jesus was over-qualified for the job on the cross. His death excessively cures my sin. After transference to him, I’m not only clean but I have a brilliant shine. I’m ultra-hyper-extra-free of any and all sin—free to begin over with new rules.

The rules of the bridge are simple. After I cross over, stop condemning myself and start thanking God. Stop acting self-sufficient and start expecting Jesus to get me out of sin. Stop living for temporal pleasure and start living for eternal love.

Above all, when I sin (and I will sin), be an adult about it. Get up, dust myself off, and run across the bridge to repentance—bypassing languish altogether.

Prayer: Father, when I sin, help me return to you.

Personal Fit

Peter turned around and saw the disciple whom Jesus loved following them. (This was the disciple who had leaned back against Jesusʼ chest at the meal and asked, “Lord, who is the one who is going to betray you.” (John 21:20 NET_FL)

Knowing that Jesus was God incarnate, he shocks my notion of a distant Creator. I’m astounded he took children in his arms, let his feet be stroked with a sinful woman’s hair, and invited disciples to lean on his breast. I didn't expect this penchant for intimate contact. It reminds me of the ancient stone architecture found in South America.

The Incas built walls using one-hundred-ton angular stones that interlocked like jigsaw pieces. How the Indians maneuvered, shaped, and fitted the monoliths so closely that a razorblade can’t fit between them remains a mystery. About four kilometers away, archeologists have identified the quarry from which the blocks were hewn in the rough before transport, final dressing, and fitting.

God found me buried deep inside the stone mountain of the world system. His generous eye measured out some potential in my raw form. By the work of the cross, he cut me free from the carnal mass in which I was forged. I was born anew, a being with a holy destiny, however, I was jagged and crude. Only God knew where I needed chipping and chiseling so I might one day fit against the Cornerstone with absolute contact.

My edges and corners still prevent me from nesting against my soul’s lover, and so the refinement continues. However, the Lord is not forcing me into some mass-produced cube so I’ll fit with all the others. He knows the exact dimensions and beautiful angles of his own stone, and he knows the true me will fit perfectly against that surface. 

Jesus wants every unique facet he created in me to completely interlock with him, for therein lies ultimate joy. He craves a heady surface-to-surface bond, so close no razorblade of un-fulfillment can slip between us. I yearn for that, too, and so I submit to the chisel.

Prayer: Thank you, Lord, for creating me for intimate contact with perfect you.

Addicted

But whenever you pray, go into your room, close the door, and pray to your Father in secret. And your Father, who sees in secret, will reward you. (Matthew 6:6 NET_FL)

I’m addicted and I need my fix. Everyday I sneak away for one-on-one time with the Creator of the universe. How could a frozen wanderer give up that patch of sunshine? Should I let deadlines, or travel, or guests invade our intimacy? Call me obsessive, but I’ll contrive a way to get what I crave.

It’s not that I’m disciplined—I’m desperate. When it comes to fighting temptation I’m as fierce as a trembling schoolgirl. Without a daily breath from the Lord, I’m sure to faint. So I draw near to him and inhale every morning, then I pray that puff will stay inside me.

Some years ago the Lord led me to two books by Christian role models who told how their lives changed when they had devotions at 5:00 a.m. I groaned and made a half-hearted commitment to try it. I didn’t set an alarm. The next few mornings I found myself awake at 5:00 a.m. and rose for my devotion time. Previously boring Scriptures now rang in my heart. On-my-face prayer emptied me of self then filled me with the Spirit. Abba Father honored a sacrifice of time set apart while the world slept.

After several years, a new threat crept in. My mornings became disciplined for discipline’s sake, not for the Lord. Jesus wants obedience in joy, not habit in drudgery. He knows I can’t live without our meetings so now he sets the day’s schedule, which sometimes includes more than one quiet time.

That’s the secret compulsion I can’t shake. Inside my prayer closet, God gets on his knees, puts his mouth to my ear, and whispers his message. It’s an addiction I’ll never fight.

Prayer: Lord, thank you for coming to me each day.

Pain Vs. The Presence

He will restore us in a very short time; he will heal us in a little while, so that we may live in his presence. (Hosea 6:2 NET_FL)

The cold tile of the hotel bathroom was poor consolation for being too sick to crawl back to bed. I had food poisoning extraordinaire. It’s a cherished memory, however, because as I curled up by the porcelain convenience, the Lord led me to an experiment. I invited his Spirit to join with mine. His presence spread across my heart and I leaned into it. As each wave of pain washed in, I matched it with exerted concentration on the nearness of Jesus.

That experience changed me. My heart declared my Savior was bigger than my pain. Suffering by itself couldn’t accomplish this. I had to take the beauty of God’s felt presence and force it into the teeth of suffering. It allowed me to witness love and pain in face-to-face combat, and to see love win.

That was a minor trial, but any hurt, big or small, will yield to the reversal. Everything, from rejection to the death of a dear one, can become time in the closet pressed against Jesus. In fact, an injury not processed in his presence will leave an open wound in the soul. Only an embrace of the Holy Spirit can cover our exposed nerves with scar tissue that is stronger than the original skin.

Where was my spirit molested? Through meditation I must re-live that moment and, at the height of the devastation, turn to the Lord’s presence. His peace wafts through my soul. Then I shove the victory of God’s greater love into the face of my memory monster. This exercise reveals a truth missed during the original trauma—Jesus, the Comforter, was with me. The force of his presence drives the beast out of my heart.

The event is a nightmare I can shake off because the love of Christ is my waking reality.

Prayer: Jesus, let me process every trial by the power of your presence.

Endurance

 For you need endurance in order to do Godʼs will and so receive what is promised. (Hebrews 10:36 NET_FL)

Fir, alder, and maple forest surround my father’s house in Washington State. Among the woodland critters are cliff swallows that, year after year, attempt to build mud nests above Dad’s door. For a while he allowed the birds to summer there, but it was a bad location for all the parties. The chicks were subjected to human traffic and the people were dive-bombed with objectionable matter.

Every spring, Dad goes on swallow-alert. A comical war is waged as he washes down any mud beginnings. Eventually, the birds relocate to the nearby sea-cliffs. It would appear Dad is more persistent but the swallows are driven by deep instinct and they’ll be back another year.

You and I have a deep instinct to unite with our Creator and be delivered from the curse. That hope drives us. No matter how many times our nest of faith is knocked down, we rebuild. We can’t give up on Christ, for as Peter said, where would we go? No one else has the words of eternal life.

Endurance, however, is more than maintaining the status quo. To stop running toward Christ on the treadmill of faith is to be swept backwards into unbelief. Even to stay in the one place of trusting Jesus requires an expenditure of calories. The longer we live with our heartaches the harder it is to trust because no answer appears to be forthcoming. Every day I wake up and say, “In spite of all that is wrong, I’ll trust the Lord,” I’m enduring more today than yesterday.

When I get to paradise I’ll be able to trade my endurance for the commodity my heart will most desire, victories with which to honor Jesus through eternity.

Prayer: Mighty Savior, help me trust you today.

Better Than a Dream

More than that, I now regard all things as liabilities compared to the far greater value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things- indeed, I regard them as dung! (Philippians 3:8 NET_FL)

I drew the energy of the stars into a business plan for a human resources company. We would do everything God’s way. This company would treat people with dignity and donate profits to Christian missions. A baby company was conceived.

There were sharp labor pains. I invested everything, and borrowed beyond prudence. There were contractions of litigation and lack of market share. After much travail, the new company wiggled in excitement. We nursed it to profitability. During the company’s teenage years, however, sleepless nights returned. Clients failed to pay, and finances grew rebellious.

“You’ve had your dream, now wake up. I’ll show you real life,” God said. 

My eyes came open. Up to that point, I had no true purpose, eternal possessions, or real power. I sold the business at a loss and was ordained into the pastorate. Now I deal in commodities of truth, store treasures in heaven, and wrestle demons for human souls.

My vain dream was to build a company until I achieved material prosperity while honoring God on the side. My waking life is an ever-mounting adventure of ministry centered on faith, hope, and love. The death of my self-wrought dream was my greatest loss, and my greatest gain.

Prayer: Jesus, help me lose everything for a bigger life with you.

Cyclone of Sin

And have mercy on those who waver; save others by snatching them out of the fire; have mercy on others, coupled with a fear of God, hating even the clothes stained by the flesh. (Jude 1:22-23 NET_FL)

Dani and I hunkered over a tea candle as another blast shook the house. Our eyes widened in awe of the wind’s power. Cyclone Winston was the largest in South Pacific history. The eye passed between the islands but we felt the wrath of radiating bands of horizontal rain. Every tree was shredded, many buildings collapsed, most brave hearts trembled.

Sin is like a cyclone. It shreds life. No one escapes the devastating consequences. Sometimes we are caught in the eye where the source of our suffering is clear. A drunk driver runs over a toddler. The sin of drunkenness destroyed a child.

Other times bands radiate from sin to cause general misery. A father is addicted to alcohol and his children inherit the curse down to the third generation. Abuse, codependency, and addictions haunt the extended family The source of the pain goes undiagnosed and is absorbed into the morass of a dysfunctional planet. It’s the radiating bands of hardship and we’re not sure of the exact epicenter.

Whether it’s the natural consequences of a specific sin or the general trials of life in a cursed world, every sin results in suffering. Even my petty gossip and callous indifference cause anguish for myself and others.

It’s time for me to weep over the devastation around me. To weep for the suffering souls I know, to weep for my own hurts, and most of all, to weep because I’m part of the problem. I have to recognize the terrible results of sin and hate rebellion even as God hates it. A spiritual cyclone is destroying those I love and this life is my only chance to defy it.

Prayer: Mighty Christ, let me stand against the cyclone of sin.