Broken Instruments

We've been working our way through the book of Exodus in our Wednesday night Bible study for the last few weeks, and something that's come up a few times along the way is Moses's imperfections. What do we learn about Moses in the first few chapters of the book?  

• He's a murderer and fugitive from the law (2:11-15)
• He wasn't even committed enough to his Jewish heritage to circumcise his son (4:24-26)
• He's a poor public speaker (4:10)
• He's considered an Egyptian, not a Hebrew, by on-lookers (2:16-19)

Moses has a few strikes against him with the Egyptians and with the Hebrews. Sure, he has some unique qualifications for the job, too. He has experience and knowledge of both the Egyptian and Hebrew cultures. He clearly has a heart for the plight of the Hebrew slaves. But he's hardly an ideal candidate for going to Pharaoh, demanding "Let my people go!", and leading Israel out of Egypt. He has some serious imperfections.

Moses's story reminds me of something I heard Rick Warren say in an interview a couple years ago. He remarked that, "God only uses broken things. If he used perfect things, nothing would get done."

Yes, Moses had some brokenness, some imperfections. Everyone does. But God looked past that and called Moses, and, as a result, there were impossible miracles and astonishing deliverance. One of the foundational moments and defining acts of salvation in the story of scripture was accomplished: the Lord conquered Pharaoh’s power, emancipated the slaves, and established a nation. Everything else that comes in the story of the Bible—David and Solomon, Jonah and Daniel, Mary and Jesus—all of it is only possible because the Lord used Moses, imperfections and all.

Maybe God’s calling you today. Maybe the Lord has a job for you, but, like Moses, you’ve got a list of excuses, of reasons why God should go find somebody else. You might even have some very good reasons! Your brokenness intersects with God’s purpose, and you don’t see any sense in even trying. You’re just not the ideal candidate, not a perfect fit for this job.

But Moses already showed us just what God can do with broken and imperfect people. The Lord can accomplish impossible miracles and astonishing deliverance—through you. And it doesn’t take a sea rushing out of your way to astonish. Bread falling from the sky isn’t the only kind of impossible.

Bread in somebody’s pantry, where there’s usually cobwebs.

A shelter for women and children making room for more beds, more deliverance.

Someone who lives on the street feeling noticed, respected, and loved.

A ride to the doctor for the shut-in who’s had to cancel too many appointments.

A whole week sober for the first time in years.

A father telling his child “I’m sorry” for the first time ever.

These are the kinds of miracles that the world outside your window needs. Nothing supernatural, per se. No Red Seas or manna required. Just an imperfect but willing instrument in God’s able hands. How might you make a difference and make the world look more like that today?

Don’t think it can’t be you. God only uses broken things

You can listen to today's devotional below:

A Soul at War

“Beloved, I urge you as aliens and exiles to abstain from the desires of the flesh that wage war against the soul.” – 1 Peter 2:11

I was reading in 1 Peter the other day, when this verse caught my eye. There are desires of the flesh that “wage war” against our souls—they’re relentlessly hostile towards and destructive to our souls.

Well, that’s kind of alarming.

So what are these “desires of the flesh”? These sound like things we should identify, so we can avoid them, don’t you think?

1 Peter goes on to describe how to “conduct yourselves honorably” (2:12) in relation to governing authorities (2:13-17) and within your household (2:18-3:7). Then come a few verses that, based on what they’re promoting, suggest a few “desires of the flesh” to me:

-          Division (3:8)

-          Hardheartedness (3:8)

-          Apathy and hate (3:8)

-          Arrogance (3:8)

-          Getting payback (3:9)

-          Evil words (3:10)

-          Deceitfulness (3:10)

-          Sowing conflict (3:11)

That phrase, “the desires of the flesh,” also pops up in Galatians chapter 5. Paul calls on his readers not to “gratify the desires of the flesh,” because those desires are opposed to the work of the Holy Spirit (5:16-17). And unlike Peter, Paul was sure to outline exactly what he meant:

Now the works of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity, debauchery, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these. (5:19-21)

There’s some overlap between the two—notice especially division and sowing conflict in 1 Peter and strife, quarrels, dissensions, and factions in Galatians—but between these two letters, we get a pretty wide range of “desires of the flesh.”

Your habit of returning fire any time you feel you’ve been criticized or insulted.

That quarrel in your family or your church that you have no interest in deescalating.

Your confidence that you know better and see things more clearly than those idiots who think this or do that.

The nights out getting drunk with your buddies.

Those lustful thoughts you don’t mind indulging and the dirty websites you don’t mind visiting.

These things may seem more or less harmless. You may not have ever given a second thought to the morality of it all—why would you? It’s pretty normal behavior. And some of it you’re enjoying quite a bit!

But Peter wants us to recognize the reality: these desires of the flesh that you’re enjoying are hostile to you. They’re trying to destroy your soul. They want to sharpen your self-interest and dull your love. They aim to normalize harshness, to break habits of understanding or apologizing, and to grease the wheels of toxic cycles. They want to leave you content with your sins and disinclined to pursue transformation.

Well, what are we supposed to do about it?

1 Peter does gives us a powerful challenge in 3:8-9, but, as much as I love those verses, it’s Paul’s words that I think we need the most. How are we supposed to avoid falling into the trap of the “desires of the flesh”? He follows up his catalog of “works of the flesh” (5:19-21) with some familiar words:

By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. (5:22-23)

If you want to combat the desires of the flesh waging war against the soul, step one is to invite the Spirit to plant something new in you, to cultivate in your heart the antidotes to the poison apple the flesh offers.

You need reinforcements to win this war. It’s time to bring the Holy Spirit to the front line.

 Listen to this week's devotional right here!

God's Agenda

Last week I shared some thoughts on a charge brought against God in Mary Doria Russell’s novel, The Sparrow. Faced with tragedy (and a priest’s unsatisfying response), one of the characters, Anne, cries: “What sticks in my throat is that God gets the credit but never the blame... Either God’s in charge or He’s not.”

I have a tendency to do this, to give God praise for the good things in life but to exonerate God in the wake of loss and pain. What am I supposed to tell the Annes in the world, though, when they cry foul?

Today I want to share one more thing about all of this. Anne insists, “Either God’s in charge or He’s not.” I, personally, don’t believe that God is “in charge.” At least, not in the way that she means.

I do believe that God has a plan for the world, and that one day God’s plan will be accomplished. That’s the promise of Revelation 21 and 22. Nothing will stop that, "For the Lord of hosts has planned, and who will annul it? His hand is stretched out, and who will turn it back?" (Isa 14:27) In that sense, God is in control and steering everything towards a particular outcome.

But I don’t believe that God plans and arranges everything that happens in the meantime, that all of the good and the bad in life are a part of God’s will.

Here’s what I believe about what God is up to in the world:

I believe that God works all things together for good for those who love him (Rom 8:28).

I believe that God’s plans are meant to prosper us and not to harm us, to give us a hope and a future. (Jer 29:11)

I believe that the Lord has multiplied his wondrous deeds and his thoughts toward us, that if I proclaimed and told of them, they’re more than can be told. (Ps 40:5)

I believe in a God who wants to make the world “very good” again (Gen 1:31), who doesn’t want anyone to perish (2 Pet 3:9), who’s going to destroy death (1 Cor 15:26) and the one who has the power of death, the devil (Heb 2:14). I believe in a God who came to earth to welcome outcasts, heal the sick, raise the dead, and, ultimately, taste death for everyone (Heb 2:9).

I give God the credit and not the blame because, to me, God’s agenda is only ever to work good for this world. That is God’s business day in, day out. Not orchestrating and running all things under heaven, but seeking the good, the salvation, and the eternal life of all. Anything else is a result, not of God’s desires or will, but of human sin or nature’s brokenness. That's the reason we don't always see things working together for good, why circumstances will harm us and not prosper us. Though they can't thwart God's eternal plans for us, human sin and nature's brokenness are powerful forces at work in the world that often do prevent God's desires for our lives here and now.

And those are exactly the things that Jesus sought to make right when he walked the earth: turning men and women from sin and bandaging up the wounds caused by a broken world.

That's how I see the Lord and the Lord’s work in the world.

Anne still may not be satisfied, I know. And maybe she's right. The picture in scripture is certainly messier and blurrier than these few verses make it sound. But this is the theology I live with. Every day I try to be one of this God's people. 

And, to me, that's not a God who deserves blame. That’s a God who inspires awe and gratitude.

Listen to today's devotional right here:

Blaming God

I just finished a powerful, haunting novel by Mary Doria Russell called The Sparrow. It’s a sci-fi story about a team of Jesuit (Catholic) missionaries who travel to a recently discovered alien world to make contact with the extra-terrestrial peoples there. There’s so much beauty and depth in this book that I often had to put it down and take time to digest what I’d just read.

One scene that I’ve been chewing on for a couple weeks followed the death of one of their party, the puzzling illness of another, and now the disappearance of two more of their companions. One of the priests and a doctor named Anne are talking through it all, when she asks where was God’s plan in the death of their colleague or in the possible loss of their two missing friends.

“God knows,” he said, and there was in his tone both an admission of defeat and a statement of faith.

“See, that’s where it falls apart for me!” Anne cried. “What sticks in my throat is that God gets the credit but never the blame. I just can’t swallow that kind of theological candy. Either God’s in charge or He’s not.”

This isn’t the first time I’ve heard that complaint about Christianity, but it is the first time I’ve stopped and considered how I’d answer it.

Now, I feel a little out of my depth here, honestly. I’ve lived a pretty comfortable life. The worst thing that’s ever happened to me is a bad Star Wars movie that came out once. I exaggerate—but I haven’t had a particularly hard life. I’ve lost family and friends, sometimes suddenly and unexpectedly, but most of my experience of suffering has been second-hand. I’ve helped people bury their spouses and their children. I’ve witnessed shocking poverty and need, as well as the effects of depression, addiction, and suicide. So, while I admit I’m not the ideal candidate to answer Anne’s question, I also like to think that I’m not totally unacquainted with the moments in life that make people ask it.

So why does God get the credit but never the blame?

I think this is a good question. Maybe it's one you've asked yourself before. I want to share two things. I’ll just mention one this week and get into the other one next time.

The first thing is, if you have been hurt or disappointed and want to blame God, tell him so. Don’t hold those feelings back. God can handle it.

After all, the Lord gave us the book of Psalms.

“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?” (13:1)

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning?” (22:1)

“You placed me down in the deepest pit, in places dark and deep. Your anger smothers me; you subdue me with it, wave after wave.” (88:6-7)

I don’t think that blaming God for something is unfaithful. In fact, sometimes, I think that’s exactly what faith looks like. That’s what it looked like for the authors of scripture. That’s even what it looked like for Jesus, on the cross (Matt 27:46).

And that faith made them cry out to God in their hurt.

If you stumble over this question, like Anne did in the novel, then maybe the answer isn’t scriptural arguments or theological speculations. Maybe the answer isn’t thinking about God. Maybe the answer is talking to God—giving God a talking to. It could be that the way through this struggle is less intellectual and more relational, less about getting everything straight in your head and more about getting some things straight between you and God.

You can listen to this week's devotional below!