Collateral Damage

This past Sunday I preached from 2 Samuel chapter 11, the story of David, Bathsheba, and Uriah. As I was reading the passage and chewing on the story there, I noticed something that I’d never really paid attention to before.

David, you might remember, decided to have Uriah killed when he couldn’t cover up Bathsheba’s pregnancy, so he sent a message to General Joab: “Station Uriah on the front lines where the battle is fiercest. Then pull back so that he will be killed.” (11:15) Joab was a ruthless man, and he didn’t hesitate.

So Joab assigned Uriah to a spot close to the city wall where he knew the enemy’s strongest men were fighting. And when the enemy soldiers came out of the city to fight, Uriah the Hittite was killed along with several other Israelite soldiers. (11:16-17)

It was those last six words that I noticed this time: Uriah was dead, “along with several other Israelite soldiers.”

Joab and his messenger give a more detailed account of the fighting in verses 19-21 and 23-24. Uriah and the troops drove the Ammonites back to the gate of their walled city. Once Israel’s army was so near the city, though, the Ammonite archers could easily cut them down from the walls. That’s how Uriah and the others died. Those casualties weren’t a result of enemy strength or ingenuity. The general made a deliberate strategic mistake. His troops should never have been in that position—he intentionally made an unforced error for no other reason than to get Uriah killed.

And several other Israelite soldiers died with him.

They were just collateral damage. David and Joab decided that they were willing to sacrifice these other soldiers’ lives in order to eliminate Uriah.

All because of David’s lust for Bathsheba and his fear of being found out.

How often do your sinful choices leave collateral damage in their wake?

One spouse suffers because of another’s gambling habit.

A child is hurting after mom or dad’s sins wreck their marriage.

A stranger’s harmed because of someone’s impatient or distracted driving.

A friendship is soured because of one person’s pettiness, grudges, temper, or gossip.

So often, your sinful attitudes, words, and behavior—even if you insist, “It’s not hurting anybody!”—it sends out ripples (or shockwaves) that cause harm to bystanders in your life, people you may not have given any thought to before you acted or opened your mouth.

Because you weren’t thinking about collateral damage. If some things or people had to be sacrificed, well, you could worry about that later.

It’s easy to miss this detail in the big, ignominious mess of 2 Samuel 11, but David accepted that those men would have to pay the price for his deception.

Something that Christians, who love their neighbors as themselves (Luke 10:27), treat others the way they want to be treated (Matt 7:12), and look not to their own interests but to the interests of others (Phil 2:4), can never do.

Don’t make someone else pay the price for your brokenness today. Remember that your choices and actions impact more than just your own life. Or, if it’s too late for that, if you’ve already left collateral damage in your wake, if someone’s been harmed by the after effects of your sin, then there's only one question left to answer: What can you do to try to make things right?

You can listen to this devotional right here:

God Is Bad at Math

Photo by Roman Mager on Unsplash

A while back, as I was getting ready for Trinity Sunday, I was thinking about the idea that there is only one God: God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. If you put that belief into a math formula, I guess it would look something like this:

1 (Father) + 1 (Son) + 1 (Spirit) = 1 (God)

You probably noticed the problem here. 1+1+1 does not equal 1. It’s not good math. (Suddenly, I’m imagining that Barbie from the 90s that got Mattel into so much trouble for complaining “Math class is tough!” Except the Barbie is God.)

But as I was getting ready for Trinity Sunday and pondering this bad math, I had a realization: Math has never been God’s strong suit.

From Gideon’s 300 men against 135,000 Midianites to the five loaves of bread and two fish to feed 5,000 people, to the Trinity—one God: the Father, the Son, and the Spirit—God’s always been bad at math.

But God’s struggle with that always ends up revealing his power and his love more clearly than before. I think that’s because math works with strict limits and dependable rules, but God’s power towards you and love for you are unlimited and unruly.

When God chooses to provide, God will provide, and when God chooses to deliver, God will deliver, no matter what the math says.

Our God is so full of love, that our one God is three persons eternally loving each other and looking for others to love, too—never mind the rules for addition.

Math just doesn’t capture who God is or what God does.

So yeah, the Lord struggles with math. That’s because the Lord does not, will not, cannot struggle to love you and care for you. God’s heart and God’s power defy every equation and formula, every expectation and everything that makes sense.

Our units can’t even measure them. “For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him.” (Ps 103:11)

Our concepts can’t even comprehend them. “I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power… to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge.” (Eph 3:18-19)

Christian, today, instead of taking inventory of your needs and challenges or tallying up all of your sins and failures, remember who your God is and rest easy in the immeasurable, unknowable, incalculable love and care of the Lord.

Reading is hard, too. Listen to this devotional right here:

Always Before Me

A while back, I wrote about Paul’s famous challenge in 1 Thessalonians to “pray without ceasing.” I remember puzzling over those words growing up: what exactly does he want us to do? What does that look like? How do you do it? None of us should be confused about this today, though—because we use our phones “without ceasing.” That’s not some unrealistic, unattainable spiritual height. “Without ceasing” is just a habit you gradually get into.

I was thinking about that again recently, when I read something John Ortberg says in his forward to the book The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry. Ortberg points out some lines and observations from the book that resonated with him, and he writes,

“The average iPhone user touches his or her phone 2,617 times a day.” By way of contrast, the psalmist said, “I have set the Lord always before me” (Psalm 16v8, ESV). What would my life be like if God touched my mind as frequently as I touch my phone?

What would my life be like if God touched my mind as frequently as I touch my phone?

I don’t keep track of how often I pick up my phone, but I do pay attention to the average daily screen time numbers that pop up every Sunday morning. I pat myself on the back when the number goes down; I think about changes I can make when that average trends up.

What I don’t think as much about is how to use my time well once I do peel my eyes off of that screen, what to give my attention to after I put the phone down.

There are plenty of worthy options here: more attention to my family; giving one of my parents a (long overdue) call; little projects around the house or yard; reading a good book.

And, of course, there’s the Psalm 16:8 option: setting the Lord always before me.

What would my life be like if God touched my mind as frequently as I touch my phone—or if I  gave some of my screen time-turned-free time to the Lord?

What about you?

What do you keep 'always before you'?

Any idea how much screen time you get each day? Or how many times you pick up the phone?

What else could you use some of that time for?

How do you normally ‘set the Lord before you’?

Do you do it “always,” without ceasing, constantly, habitually giving your attention back to God in those moments between moments (or even during them), the way we constantly, habitually reach for our phones?

If you, like me, don’t ‘set the Lord always before you’, how can you start practicing and gradually getting yourself into a new habit of giving God more time and attention? What kind of tools, reminders, or role models might help you? Who could you ask to encourage you and hold you accountable to your new goals?

Breaking current habits to form new ones isn’t easy. But, in this case, it may be absolutely vital for your spiritual health, for your connection to Christ, and for your service to the world around you.

So what’s step one?

WARNING: OFFERING PLATES ARE MENTIONED

“Everyone should give whatever they have decided in their heart. They shouldn’t give with hesitation or because of pressure. God loves a cheerful giver.” – 2 Corinthians 9:7

You may have heard that last line before: “God loves a cheerful giver.” In context, Paul’s trying to convince the Corinthians to support a collection for needy believers in Jerusalem, but today you’re likely to hear it quoted in a church stewardship campaign or right before the plates get passed on a Sunday morning.

I was reminded of that line recently. During the summer months, when a lot of our normal ushers are in and out with vacations and other trips, the church I serve will often just set the offering plates on tables near the sanctuary doors, where you can place a donation as you’re coming or going. There’s also a musical interlude in the service when anyone could carry an offering over to a plate.

And my girls just love that.

Emily will hand them each a bill, to get them used to the idea of giving to the church, and they’ll scurry over to deposit it in the plate. But then they skip back to the pew and demand more. So, she scrapes the bottom of her wallet for any more cash or any coins she can find (we’re Millennials—we don’t carry physical money around!), and then they dash to the plate again. One time, they returned to the pew elated, pleading for more, and make a third run. Buzzing around the sanctuary, participating in the service, handling real, grown-up money, they just eat all of that up.

They’re the most cheerful givers I’ve ever seen. And I have no doubt God loves it as much as they do.

Once, Jesus was asked who was greatest in his Kingdom. The disciples were often jockeying for glory like that. But when Jesus answered them, he didn’t pick one of the disciples. Instead, he called over some little kid, and he said, “I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you’ll never enter the kingdom.” (Matt 18:3) Then he answered their question: “anyone who becomes as humble as this little child is the greatest in the Kingdom.” (18:4) It sounds to me like Jesus is saying that we could learn a lot about how to serve the Lord and follow him from kids.

Like, say, the sheer joy of participating in a service of worship and the overflowing cheer of giving.

In Christ’s eyes, that’s a truly great thing. God just loves it. And some of us in Pascagoula got to witness a sermon on it from two cute little experts this summer.

May we all have eyes to see and ears to hear.

Listen to the devotional right here!