John Fischer The Catch

Faithfulness is the one ongoing quality God asks of us. He is willing to justify us; he is willing to grant us mercy instead of the condemnation we deserve, but he does ask for a life of faithfulness.

Faithfulness is in contrast to perfection. Being faithful is a far cry from being perfect. Faithfulness means being authentic, devoted, consistent, loyal. An alcoholic who regularly shows up at A.A. meetings is faithful. She may slip and fall, but she is faithful to get up again. She may lie to her supervisor, but she is faithful to tell the truth when confronted. Faithfulness allows for failure; perfection does not.

When God calls for perfection, it is assumed that I cannot perform it. It’s the demand for perfection that keeps me relying on God’s mercy and grace. But the call to faithfulness is a call I can answer. Faithful to follow, faithful to confess, faithful to obey, faithful to repent, faithful to believe, faithful to pray and seek God — all these are the requirements of faithfulness. All of them are doable and are, in fact, my responsibility and my joy, having been the unexpected recipient of so great a mercy.

The Pharisees could have had it all if they would have been willing to admit their hypocrisy and join the rest of the human race on their knees before a merciful Lord. “God, have mercy on me, a sinner,” cried the publican in the parable of Jesus (Luke 18:13). Imagine if you will, a Pharisee in his long robe, his phylacteries, and his ornate turban, down on his knees next to the tax collector in tears of repentance and joy. Imagine these two embracing, both overwhelmed at the mercy of God in hearing and answering the same prayer. There you have a true picture of the kingdom of God. It’s hard to imagine the Pharisee standing up after such an experience and judging anyone.

And following such strange and unexpected union would be two unlikely followers of Christ, getting up off their knees and encouraging each other to be faithful. Shouldn’t we want to be faithful after all He’s done for us?

Sandra Raluca Izbasa realizing she won gold

Like many of you, I’ve been following some of he Olympic games, and what impresses me the most this time is how old covenant these games are. For the most part, the athletes who made the trek to London deserve to be there and for sure, all medalists deserve their medal. They worked for it; they earned it. It’s all about performance. Every athlete that has been interviewed after winning has pointed to the hard work, effort and support it has taken to get them to this place. It’s almost exhausting watching them go through what they have to go through.

And think about the losers. For every medalist, how many unknowns return home empty handed?

Yet there are plenty of moments of grace – most of these exhibited in the humble attitudes of the winners who dreamed about winning, but can’t believe it when it actually happens. These can be seen in the first blush of victory for those like swimmer Missy Franklin who are too young to have realized they could actually compete at this level, much less win; or in the amazement of those not expected to win, such as Sandra Raluca Izbasa from Romania who won the women’s vault when McKayla Maroney, the hands-down favorite, fell on her second vault; or in the sheer joy of Serena Williams dancing on the pinnacle of the world’s tennis stage, having begun her life seemingly trapped in the projects of Compton, California. Not to mention the opening and closing ceremonies that capture the amazement of even the most proud and jaded athletes when they realize the grand stage they are on, and the huge number of participants from all over the world.

And then there is this surprising passage, from Paul, the architect of new covenant faith, and the proponent of grace over law:

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize. (1 Corinthians 9:24-27)

This is not about salvation; it is about living a life of faith on a day-to-day basis. It’s not about one event every four years; it’s about running the race every day. It’s about the effort that goes into saying “No” to self and Yes” to God and His plans for my life. It’s not about earning anything; it’s about making use of what God has given us in order to live in a manner worthy of our calling. To that end, we can take these fine Olympic examples and apply them to our daily challenges of faith.

In that case, go for the gold! Today!

I’m on an island at a busy intersection
I can’t go forward. I can’t turn back
Can’t see the future
It’s getting away from me
I just watch the taillights glowing
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
– U2’s Bono

This has turned into Blitzen’s week, so I thought it appropriate to finish it with a piece I wrote when he was a little over a year old. This fear he has of invisible barriers has been with him all along. I have similar issues that refuse to go away. It helps to be reminded that the barrier is only in my head. I might add that I have known Blitzen to blow right through these imaginary barriers when his mind is on something else.

We have a little twelve-pound Chihuahua that was my wife’s Christmas present a year ago. I grimaced when I found out, a few days before Christmas, that this was what she really wanted. I was of the persuasion that real dogs are supposed to be big, but I now have to admit, this little addition to our family has brought us much joy and has become a source of boundless entertainment. Not hurting for personality, he prances about with an air of respectability that makes you not want to embarrass him by laughing in his face until you remember he is a dog and probably won’t take it personally. He has a little wrinkled brow that provides a serious addition to the humor of his antics. We called him Blitzen because we heard he was a reindeer-head Chihuahua and he came to us at Christmastime, but Reepicheep, the serious little mouse in the Chronicles of Narnia would also suit his character well.

Lately, Blitzen has taken to exhibiting a strange behavior that has him refusing to come in the front door, as if some invisible force is preventing him from entering the house. It works the same way going out. He will stop short of the door and no amount of coaxing will get him across the threshold. We have to pick him up and carry him.

It’s both comical and pathetic to watch him sitting there whining and shaking with desire to cross, but completely unable to overcome whatever unseen barrier it is that he imagines. You can get down on your hands and knees as little as two feet away, and beg him to come to you, but he won’t. Perhaps some bad experience — whether getting caught in the door or slipping on the floor just inside — has become frozen in his memory, but he cannot shake it.

I am convinced God has given us pets to see the silly things we do, and in this case, I can’t help but see my own fears when he does this. What are those thresholds in my life that I can’t cross because of some imaginary fear or bad experience from the past that haunts me? More often than not, our fears are just like this — invisible barriers to faith that keep us from moving on in our lives. Satan is a real force, and he can set difficult things in our paths, but I rather think that most of the time he locks us up in the smoke and mirrors of our imaginations.

If Blitzen would just take one step out, he would find there is nothing to fear, and not only that, there are strong, loving hands waiting for him on the other side. In such situations, our moving ahead in faith (and finding the same results, I might add) isn’t any more complicated than that.

Remember “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten?” My own version would come under the heading: “A Lot of What I Really Need to Know I’ve Learned from My Dog.” Anyway, I’m sure God gave us animals so we could learn about ourselves by observing them.

Blitzen, our Chihuahua who is famous now for being like a lamb in my arms, knows our patterns so well that he is aware of when it is the weekend. Something in our schedule triggers him. He likes the weekend because I go get breakfast for the family and take him along for the ride. On Saturday it’s muffins from the bi-polar baker (you never know what mood he’ll be in), and on Sunday it’s bagels from the bagel shop in town. The minute I’m up, he starts following me all over the house lest I up and leave without him.

The big deal about this drive is that he gets to stand in my lap, put his front paws on the window’s edge and stick his head out the window, and though it’s less than 5 minutes to either of these places, that doesn’t matter, it’s a big deal to him.

And the biggest deal is whenever we pass by another four-legged creature. Blitzen goes nuts, barking, hopping, breathing heavily, and carrying on all over my lap.

This immediate rapport with his own kind is something I’ve noticed with all dogs. Picture two strangers passing each other both walking their dogs and imagine the people don’t want to talk. Too bad, because the dogs do.  Would that I were half as friendly.

I’m taking it from Blitzen from now on. Everyone I pass is deserving of an enthusiastic greeting. Time to get excited over strangers — hop around a little inside. You never know the value of a smile or a kind word. People have been given hope to go on over less.

So I was standing there trying to have a serious talk with my wife when suddenly she burst out laughing for no reason.

“What?” I said. “What is it?”

“You should see yourself. You look like Jesus holding a little lamb.”

I went to a mirror, and sure enough, there I was, except I wasn’t holding a little lamb, I was holding Blitzen, our Chihuahua. And the reason I was holding Blitzen is actually significant to the analogy.

Poor Blitzen has developed a serious phobia over certain areas of our house and yard that he can’t seem to cross for some unknown reason. Whether it’s a slippery floor or a couple of steps that seem daunting, he will simply stand at the foot of whatever impasse he faces and bark until someone comes and gets him and carries him over where he wants to go.

But it’s the bark that drives you nuts. It would be one thing if he just kept on barking and barking, but it’s a single little bark repeated randomly every few seconds, and just when you think he’s given up… “Arf!” there he goes again. It’s like a form of Chinese water torture that makes you want to strangle him. And that’s why I had Blitzen in my arms. I had left my office next to our garage near where Blitzen was frozen and scooped him up just to shut him up as I went to talk to Marti, and thus the classic pose of Christ with a little lamb in His arms.

Maybe it’s not unlike the Lord and us. We reach a barrier – an impasse – that seems impossible only to us, and we cry out to the Lord. We just stand there and bark until we become so annoying to Him that He has to pick us up just to shut us up. But once He does… everything’s okay.

Maybe it’s all we want after all. It’s that way with Blitzen; he just wants to be picked up. Whatever the struggle he was facing, it’s gone as soon as he’s picked up. This is much better. He loves to be held. And come to think of it, don’t we?

Who knows but that maybe it’s what the Lord wants too.

We used some of the following in our Abraham and Sarah piece, but I thought you might get a kick out of the full “unabridged” edition. Besides, it gives opportunity to make a point about giving – a point I know only in my head, not yet in my heart. Though the actual situation is fictitious, the feelings and attitudes expressed are all inspired by the truth.

“Marti,” John whines. “Those nasty neighborhood kids are here … again. They are crawling all over the table like a swarm of ants ready to pick up whatever is in their path and carry it off. Hungry little buggers.  Don’t they have homes of their own that come with plumbing and parents?”

“Add to the salad and get the juice please,” Marti says, rolling her eyes.

John goes at it again: “But we have just enough chicken for the three of us and a bit more should Annie come home early. Those kids are eating everything!  My portion, your portion, Chandler’s portion, and Annie always comes home hungry.”

“Oh stop it, John; you sound like one of the 3 bears.  Hey, everyone! Who wants more?”

John begrudgingly looks at the chicken wing he holds in his hand, and with a grimaced look hands the precious gift to a waiting freckle-faced redhead.

“Is anyone ready for dessert?”

“Oh no you don’t, Marti. You aren’t going to give those little urchins the tiramisu I paid $12 for. They won’t even appreciate it. Besides, you said we would save it for a special occasion.”

“Well, John, enjoy the special occasion. Are we having fun yet? Anyone want seconds?”

With tummies momentarily full, Marti rallies by saying, “Who is planning on staying the night?” John clutches his chest. “Each of you call your parents and give them my number – but be sure to ask first.”

And as fast as these little pests came, they are back out on the street with their skateboards. And guess who is left to clean up?

Some of us have a gift for giving; others of us struggle with this. I have to overcome my natural tendency to share with others, and I barely know the feeling of sharing freely.

One of my greatest mistakes is to think I have to have an abundance before I can give, when in truth, giving is an attitude of the heart that creates an abundance.

Life is hard. How often we forget that this is the way it is supposed to be. We push against the difficult circumstances in our lives instead of allowing them to work God’s character in us. We act as if the good life is what we deserve. Even the good life we will enjoy in heaven is not what we deserve, so what business do we have assuming everything will be easy down here?

Everything we are going through is for a purpose. God does not waste any experiences on us; He uses everything. “And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them” (Romans 8:28). There are no qualifiers on this. It doesn’t say everything except the stupid things we do, or everything except when we blow it, or everything except for our sin; it just says “everything.” No exceptions.

The only reason this isn’t always tremendously good news for us is the little clause: “according to his purpose for us.” We forget that it is His purpose that is being worked out in our lives, and the only time this would be a problem is when His purpose is not necessarily ours. At issue here is who defines the success, fulfillment and purpose we are seeking — our culture or the Lord?

We get into a lot of trouble when we use our culture’s definition of fulfillment and apply it to our understanding of God’s purpose for our lives. We often assume God is blessing us when things are going great, and God is cursing us when things are going poorly when the opposite could very well be the case. God’s hand and his love are hidden in the difficult things. We should actually be wary when things are “easy,” for this world is not our home nor is it a place to seek the comforts of life. These are culturally, not spiritually defined.

The spiritual things in our lives have to do with what builds character in us, and these are most often the more difficult things. “We can rejoice, too,” says Paul in Romans 5:3&4 (NLT), “when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they are good for us — they help us learn to endure. And endurance develops strength of character in us, and character strengthens our confident expectation of salvation.”

So when things are not going well for you, stop and remember: God has something good in mind.

A couple weeks ago I sent you a video of a song by Derek Webb called “A New Law” and asked for your comments. I could tell from those who did comment that some of you didn’t get it. That’s not a put down, because I didn’t get it either until about the third time through. The song is made to make you listen carefully and figure it out – something you don’t encounter very often in Christian music for the very reasons this song criticizes. Most Christian music is blatantly straight forward, bringing the answers right to you. This song uses a subtle form of hyperbole that, unless you catch it, you won’t get the full impact. It also shows a keen understanding of the shenanigans of legalism.

To make it even harder, the New Testament talks about a new law – the law of love – and if you get thinking in that direction, it can throw you off. Because the message of this song is worth the time, I’m going to make sure we all get it today.

The key to understanding this message is that everything until the final “Do not be afraid” tag is from an old covenant perspective. The new law is not the new covenant, it’s just another form of the old one – one that may be easier to do, which only makes it more dangerous.

In case you can’t access the video link above, here are the lyrics.

Don’t teach me about politics and government
Just tell me who to vote for
Don’t teach me about truth and beauty
Just label my music
Don’t teach me how to live like a free man
Just give me a new law

I don’t want to know if the answers aren’t easy
So just bring it down from the mountain to me
I want a new law
I want a new law
Give me that new law

Don’t teach me about moderation and liberty
I prefer a shot of grape juice
Don’t teach me about loving my enemies
Don’t teach me how to listen to the Spirit
Just give me a new law

I don’t want to know if the answers aren’t easy
So just bring it down from the mountain to me
I want a new law
I want a new law
Give me that new law

What’s the use in trading a law you can never keep
For one you can that cannot get you anything
Do not be afraid
Do not be afraid
Do not be afraid, etc.

The last two lines, along with the video, are the key to understanding the rest of the song. In the video, everyone is in some stage of wearing a blindfold signifying that the law blinds you to freedom, liberty, beauty, truth, and any life in the Spirit that requires thinking for yourself. Many people are willing to give up that freedom, because what you get in return is an easier, less complicated, more clearly defined world, where the answers are all provided, and your thinking is done for you.

This is the same blindness that blinded the Pharisees. The Pharisees took the law Moses brought down from the mountain, and made it into something that was easier to perform – tedious, indeed, but not impossible to do. That’s why Jesus reinterpreted that law in His Sermon on the Mount as something that none of us can accomplish in our fallen humanity.  Jesus taught that the law has to go all the way to the heart, and at that level, all of us are guilty. In Jesus’ interpretation, hate is murder, lust is adultery, and love has to stretch all the way to include one’s enemies. Unless you cannot follow the law perfectly, it is not accomplishing what it is meant to accomplish in your life. In other words, if you make the law into something you can do, you make Jesus irrelevant.

But we do this all the time when we make Christianity into a set of behavioral standards – religious things we do and cultural things we don’t do – in order to make it easier to control what it means to be a Christian. In doing so, we trade a law we “can never keep for one [we] can that cannot get [us] anything.” The woman at her desk in the video, who takes off one set of blindfolds, carefully puts it away in her drawer, and pulls out another identical set and puts them on, says it all. Any way you cut it, it’s still old covenant legalism that blinds us to truth, beauty and freedom in the Spirit.

The “Do not be afraid” section at the end of the song is brilliant, because it reveals that fear is behind the appeal of the “new law” (the one you can do). This new law makes a scary world safe, it makes complicated decisions easy, it turns what is really gray into what is black and white, and we all like that because we don’t have to do the work of being mature. Taking the blindfold off means freedom, but it also means greater responsibility. It means you have to learn to be led by the Spirit, to think for yourself and make your own decisions. It means you might not look and choose like everyone else in your group or fellowship. It means living with questions and unresolved issues. It means trusting the Spirit instead of the system. It means walking with your eyes open. It means freedom with responsibility. It means learning not to be afraid because we trust the Lord completely. Either way, we pretty much get what we want.

Mr. Webb has done us a real favor with this song and video. It deserves a deeper look.

Coming out from behind the invisible lectern

Okay, time for some truth-telling. Marti and I haven’t exactly been on the same page with this 3-part series on Abraham and Sarah. That’s why it has been delayed and why we are starting from the beginning again.

We can blame all of these delays on Marti. Starting to fråeak out about losing her home, she is seeking the accountability of three trusted brothers through correspondence, always copying me in on her writing and their responses. (Any similarities between these guys and Abraham’s three visitors is unintentional.) To be perfectly honest, she has thrown herself at their feet, and they, in turn, are directing her through ‘clues’ she is to put together.

Marti’s home means everything to her for many reasons that you can all identify with, whether your family is at risk or not. It is home base for a family that surrounds Chandler with access to his brother and sister. Having finally identified the nature of Chandler’s disabilities, our community is exclusively offering, and paying for, a very special school for Chandler. The tuition alone would pay a year’s rent for most people. Our home is also a refuge for our daughter while in residency, and for our firstborn son and his new wife. Marti sees our cottage as part of a compound where they can easily get to, should they choose. In addition, Marti’s policy is to give back what you take out, and thus has thrown her gifts of leadership into her community and its affairs.

But more than just a home, this home contains a promise I made… roots.  I promised her I would never cause her to uproot as I have many times during our life together. She has placed her faith on my promise, as she should. I simply have not delivered on the promise. (And no, this is not one of those Christian stories where the Lord is asking me to lead my family into the wilderness. Rather, He is asking me to lead them out of the wilderness into a settled place, though I have been reluctant to do so.)

One of the last clues given by the three who challenged her was to find peace in Him and Him alone. Starting from the beginning, which is the book of Genesis, she came upon a story of nomads – a story of believing and not believing and why. And where she rested – at least with regard to this part of her search – is with Genesis 18:14, “Is there anything too hard for the Lord?”

So we are going to rewind this tape back to Friday and begin again with Marti providing the study while I invite you to step into my shoes and see the story through my eyes. To help you identify the voices: scripture is in brown, Marti’s writing is in blue, mine is in black.

We are publishing all three parts together for three days and suggest you do as you choose: save a part for each day, or take them all at once, more than once. They will take you deeper upon multiple readings.

And one more thing… this was to have been a major fundraising drive to save our home, and it still is, but only inasmuch as we ask you to consider, as we are, “Is anything too hard for the Lord?”

Part 1:  Grace and Groceries

The Lord appeared to Abraham near the great trees of Mamre while he was sitting at the entrance to his tent in the heat of the day. Abraham looked up and saw three men standing nearby. When he saw them, he hurried from the entrance of his tent to meet them and bowed low to the ground. He said, “If I have found favor in your eyes, my lord, do not pass your servant by. Let a little water be brought, and then you may all wash your feet and rest under this tree. Let me get you something to eat, so you can be refreshed and then go on your way — now that you have come to your servant.”
 
“Very well,” they answered, “do as you say.” (Genesis 18:1-5)

“Marti,” I whine. “Chandler and his nasty neighborhood friends are here… again… and this time he invited kids he doesn’t even know by name! And of course they are crawling all over the table like ants ready to carry off what ever looks editable. Hungry little buggers. Don’t they have homes of their own that come with plumbing and parents?”

I’m no Abraham, but there is no way 12-year-old boys can be angels, either. No little wings sprouting anywhere. Their goal is not to prophesy, but to eat us out of house and home. This is the last time I let Marti do the shopping. One week of groceries can be gone in a second. From now on I am maintaining control of the refrigerator and the pantry, making sure there is never an abundance of anything available – just enough for the next meal.

Hardly the generous spirit manifested by the patriarch, it is in keeping with my general paranoia over never having enough – enough food – enough money. It’s my excuse for everything. It is as if I consider it godly to be lacking in money. But if I am to be honest, and I am trying not to hide behind this invisible lectern, it excuses me from having to be gracious or responsible. However, by being this way, it doesn’t exactly make me keen to God’s favor. To be sure, the grace is right in front of me, and given to me freely. I just let it go on by without receiving; and if I’m not receiving, then I’m cutting myself out of giving too. But my, if I don’t look godly to myself by never having enough!

“Very well,” [the three strangers] answered, “do as you say.”

“First time visitors!” Abraham must have shouted as he ran to tell Sarah to start baking, while he brought out the good china and quickly polished the silver from Sarah’s grandmother. There was no need to wait for the meat from the freezer to thaw. Abraham had in mind a couple of high quality and all-natural filets that he gave to the captain of the grill to cook to perfection.
 
Many dinner parties took place at the old “tent-stead” in Canon, about 19 miles southwest of Jerusalem, and while this dinner was very special, it was no more so then when other poverty-stricken, penniless nomads of the desert arrive. Though Abraham knows it is unlikely he will never see them again, all of Abraham’s guests are treated as Kings come to visit and tonight was no different. With oven still-warm bread running over with melted country butter and homemade preserves, just a little pepper on the medium-to-rare filets, cottage cheese salad with figs, and a tall glass of cool milk. With the only exception being that no one hooked up the iPod to dance, dinner was served with gracious hospitality. This spontaneous response is evidence of a heart filled with grace and love – our hearts responding immediately to human need, no longer invisible but known, and embraced – all strangers treated as royally as though they were the kings of kings.

Part 2: When God Comes to Dinner

When the three mysterious strangers asked where Sarah his wife was, Abraham recognized the identity of one of his guests. This is because only the Lord knew of her recent name change but mostly because one of the strangers repeated the Lord’s promise to Abraham of a son.

Then the Lord said, “I will surely return to you about this time next year, and Sarah your wife will have a son.” (Genesis 18:10)

From behind the dividing flap, Sarah heard everything. She heard the question and the promise, and she too realized it was God who was repeating His promise that she would have a son. She looked in the mirror and saw a 90-year-old woman with fading large blue eyes staring back at her, stooped over with a head of white hair and deep ridges in her face. So when she heard this, her response was to laugh cynically and silently to herself. But the Lord read her heart and heard its skeptical laugh.
 
Then the Lord said to Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh and say, ‘Will I really have a child, now that I am old?’ Is anything too hard for the Lord? I will return to you at the appointed time next year, and Sarah will have a son. Sarah was afraid, so she lied and said, “I did not laugh.” But he said, “Yes, you did laugh.” (Genesis 18:13-15)
 
Remarkably enough, the account ends right here. Suddenly the subject is dropped. We are left to wonder what this means. Back in Chapter 17, when God announced to Abraham for perhaps the fifth time that he was to have a son, Abraham laughed with faithful delight in what God would do in spite of the ravages of time and sin in his body and that of his wife.
 
In contrast, Sarah’s laughter is pessimistic, unbelieving. If this were the entire story, we would think her an ill-mannered, cantankerous old woman. But thanks be to the Lord who always leads us in His triumph, we see Sarah’s name listed in the hall of fame of the heroes:

And by faith even Sarah, who was past childbearing age, was enabled to bear children because she considered him faithful who had made the promise.  (Hebrews 11:11 NIV)

Now we begin to see what must have happened.
 
After the guests left and as Sarah cleared the table she continued to think about what she had heard, and the words of the Lord came home to her heart — especially the question God had asked, “Is there anything too hard for the Lord?” As Sarah thought about it, she had to face that question. Is there? Is anything too hard for the Lord? Is there anything too hard for the Creator, the one who called out of nothing the vast world in which we live and beyond that the worlds which circle us in the limitless reaches of space, the one who sustains from day to day all the mighty, complex forces of earth, brings the sun up on time, guides the planets in their whirling courses, predicts human events, and centuries later brings them to pass exactly as he promised. Even the demons obey His word and tremble when they hear it.
 
“Is anything too hard for the Lord?”
 
Even with the contradictory facts of her own life and beyond the clashing feelings of her own heart, nothing is too hard for the Lord. If He has promised, then it will be done.

But… (John adds) We evangelicals have learned ways around miracles like this. We love the Bible stories and we sing “Standing on the Promises,” but we don’t really expect anything to happen when we do. We are conditioned by year after year of hearing sermons and doing nothing about them to let this pass. Even the preachers have adjusted their preaching so that, God forbid, nothing will conflict with the football game after church. We will move the people, but not so that anything is really required of them except to hold to the right beliefs and doctrines.

So in this kind of environment, no one is eager to stretch faith into anything that would actually take an act of God to happen. No, our faith produces low-level results – modest expectations – certainly nothing that would rock the boat. Attainable levels of change.

Heck with anything being too hard for the Lord; is it anything that’s too hard for me? If it’s too hard for me, I don’t want to have anything to do with it. Post menopausal women getting pregnant is fine for the Old Testament, but try that at the First Christian Community Church and you will definitely freak people out. They will quietly shoo you away to that “signs and wonders” church across town.
Have you noticed how old Christians think new Christians are “cute” the way they actually believe God will do things in their lives and low and behold, He does? That’s just because God is encouraging their new faith. He buttresses new Christians this way, but once you become “mature” you don’t need this kind of tangible intervention by God. Mature Christians are satisfied with lesser things.

Doesn’t the Bible say we walk by faith and not by sight, so faith is something you can’t see anyway? It’s not going to make any lasting effect in the real world here and now. It just gets us all ready for heaven.

We’re talking about a kind of miracle-free Christianity.

Well here’s something that’s hitting me as I’m going over this: I’m done with the evangelical safety net; I NEED A MIRACLE! I need God to change me because I’m not doing a very good job trying to change myself. I am tired of small changes that I can explain. I need the unexplainable. Get me this kind of faith. Show me the promises that will really change me. I want to laugh with Abraham, not the cynical laugh of Sarah. I need a miracle. Come on now, everybody: be honest. DON’T YOU?

Part 3: Faith cannot stand alone

Faith does not stand alone – ever. Faith must have a promise to stand on. When God has given His word – his promise – faith can always look beyond all the conflicting circumstances.  “Is anything too hard for the Lord?”

Sarah rested upon the Lord’s promise and, in spite of the circumstances, believed God.

Our faith, you see, looks beyond all the opposing circumstances to the one who promised. Ray Stedman, one of the twentieth century’s foremost pastors and biblical expositors, said it best during one of his Sunday messages:

Do not be misled by the popular delusion that faith stands by itself, that it is simply believing — anything! Faith must have a promise to rest upon. Anything else is presumption, gullibility, folly. But when God has given a word, it is the Word of God, and it can be trusted despite circumstance, feelings, or anything else. For is anything too hard for the Lord?

Through faith Sarah received power to conceive when she was past age because she counted him faithful who had promised.

Oh how easy it is for me to leave Sarah with the dishes, judging her for a pessimistic heart while self-righteously thinking I was entitled to join God and Abraham for a cup of coffee out on the patio as they discussed how best to accomplish the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.

Perhaps it was guilt or God calling me back into kitchen, but I went in and turned on some upbeat music as Sarah and I raced to see who could clean the dishes the fastest. I won. As she put away the last piece of silver, Sarah told me about how she faced into God’s question, “Is there anything too hard for the Lord?” and how she confessed her disbelief and placed her faith on the Lord’s promise, as impossible as it once appeared, and by faith counted it real.

As we sat down to the last of the wine, she asked me what was I having a hard time doing. I told her how hard it is for me to be what God wants me to be: gracious and hospitable when I know I am not – to love and forgive when I don’t and how especially hard it is for me to conquer my timidity to become a man of boldness and courage that has no limits. I told her about my wife and how hard it is to live with a woman who stays instead of goes, trusts when I am unfaithful; believes in me when I don’t; and puts faith in a promise that I have never even tried to fulfill.

As she raised her glass her eyes met mine and she said, “Yes it is very hard for you, I know.  And while God never promises days without pain, laughter without sorrow, sun without rain; when our faith learns to rest not on its own resources that are never adequate, but upon the unfailing resources of God in response to a definite promise he gives, “Is anything too hard for the Lord?”

If even a corner from one of the 3 parts of these messages touches your heart, respond by placing your faith in complete assurance that our Lord does not lie. Accept a promise of God as a fact as solid as a mountain and vastly more enduring. Our faith changes nothing except our own personal relation to the word of His promise.

This is what our Lord is offering to be and do in us, and through us, in our lives today. God responds in the same way to us as he did to Abraham, so when we are oppressed and confronted with circumstances beyond our handling, we find the promise of God that covers the situation. In prayer we can sense some prompting of the Spirit that gives us a word of faith to rest upon. Then, like Sarah, we may ask ourselves this question: “Is anything too hard for the Lord?”

The Lord is making the impossible real every day.

(The Christian is the second yellow one from the right.)

I’ve been thinking a lot about this idea that Christians should be different. As someone who was raised as an evangelical Christian, I am sensitive to notions that become more cultural than biblical, and especially towards those things that lead to hypocrisy and self-righteousness – the diseases of the Pharisees. I think this is one of those, and it may be one of the largest contributors to legalism to come out of the church.

The idea that Christians are different is tenaciously defended in almost all Christian circles. It is fully engrained in the church and believed in the world. We have so successfully sold the idea that certain behaviors set us apart that non-Christian are often the first to notice if one of these cultural rules is violated.

Having said that, there are certainly biblical origins of the idea of being different. Jesus talks in the Sermon on the Mount about how His followers are the light of the world and that they should let their light shine before others that “they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:16). He also said that people would know His disciples by their love for one another (John 13:35). Peter was often concerned about the reputation of Christians for the sake of the gospel, and Paul taught that we are the fragrance of Christ in the world.

But none of these are calculated differences under our control; they are the results of living a life of faith out in the open. I would venture to say that they are almost entirely unconscious – the effect of believers simply being who they are in the world. In fact I think that is the key – our level of consciousness about these “differences.”

Light, love, fragrance and even good deeds are not things we necessarily control as much as they are evidences of Christ living in us. When Christ says to let your light shine among men, He is not saying to make a big deal about your differences; He is saying to get your life out there where it can make a difference by simply being what it is – a vessel of Christ. Making a difference is not the same as being different. One we are in control of; one we are not.

This leads me to conclude that the degree to which we are different should be someone else’s call. It’s the last thing we should be thinking about. If anything, we should be thinking about identifying with those around us – finding those things that make us the same, so we can focus on building relationships instead of building our reputations