Practical Faith

After moving to a new home, a different church, making new friends, and no longer involved teaching a Sunday morning class, I’ve felt out of the loop, as if God has taken me into the wilderness. As when it happened to Jesus, I’ve had severe temptations. As when it happened to the children of Israel, I’ve experienced wandering and complained about my lot in life.

As I work on theology courses to finish a degree, I’m relearning things about God. He is also opening my eyes to new truths that never before entered my head. Yet in doing the ordinary chores of life, I’ve also seen that God is here with me, and that faith in Christ is practical, whether I am studying, cleaning the house, going for a walk, or interacting with our neighbors.

Today’s verse relates an incident that happened to the disciples of Christ after His resurrection. Everything had changed in their relationship with Him. They didn’t know what to do with themselves so they went fishing. They didn’t catch anything. Then Jesus stood on the shore and told them to cast their nets on the other side of the boat, a simple instruction, but when they did it, they could hardly haul in the size of their catch.

When they got out on land, they saw a charcoal fire in place, with fish laid out on it, and bread. (John 21:9)

Jesus made breakfast. There He is, in the ordinary things of life — a fire, some fish, some bread and serving a group of tired, hungry fishermen. In doing this, He affirmed that His resurrection had not broken his bond with these men. Beginning with common life, He was still with them.

“Just as day was breaking, Jesus stood on the shore...” and spoke to them about nets and fishing, simple concerns of simple people engaged in simple tasks. He met them where they were, not demanding that they be elsewhere. He showed them, and me, that ordinary life has dignity and value to God. As the today’s devotional points out, the only true indignity is sin and selfishness, but all of life is dignified when Jesus brings to it His love and purity, and helps His people to trust and obey Him.

For the most part, I’ve looked at the life of Christ and seen the healings, the miracles, His great acts of love and compassion. I’ve wanted to be like that, but this morning He reminds me that He was a child born in a stable, a boy in a carpenter’s shop obedient to His parents, a young man going to a wedding, an adult who went from place to place owning no place to lay His head. He knew loneliness and sorrow in a garden and felt abandoned by God. He lived among us, not above us, experiencing all that we experience.

To shut Jesus up in a church makes Him the pastor’s Christ, or the Christian’s Christ. To meet Him only in a seminary makes Him the thinker’s Christ. To relegate His presence to my perfect obedience makes Him the devotee’s Christ, yet He is more than that; He is the people’s Christ, everyone’s Christ.

In this verse, Jesus is the risen Christ, a fisherman on the shore preparing a meal for hungry people. I am challenged to “unlock church doors and let Christ out” — by living all of life holding His hand and remembering He is with me in all that I do. It might be in the ordinary chores, but also in simple interactions with others, kind glances, warm greetings, and ordinary chitchat over my garden fence.

(Image source)

Dancing rather than speculation

One of my pet peeves is the tendency of media to speculate. They project winners in political elections, consider the odds in sports events, figure out who is going to win tournaments, and chatter continually about the likelihood of this or that happening or not. While asking “what if?” has a definite place in the life of a fiction writer, it is almost always a waste of time and energy for the rest of us.

After Jesus died and rose again, and after He appeared to the disciples and over 500 others, He ascended to heaven. The disciples stood there, watching Him depart.

And while they were gazing into heaven as he went, behold, two men stood by them in white robes, and said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.” (Acts 1:10–11)

These two men, likely angels, rebuked them for their speculation. Yes, Christians are told our citizenship is in heaven and we are to store up treasure in heaven and consider things above, not things on the earth. So what is wrong with gazing into heaven?

The answer is in the context. Like all of us, these disciples were eager to know the exact time Jesus would come and claim His kingdom. Even though He repeatedly told them this was hidden from them, even hidden from the angels in heaven, their last question for Him was about that very thing. But He told them, “It is not for you to know times or seasons that the Father has fixed by his own authority.” (Acts 1:7)

Christians have been asking and trying to answer the same question ever since. Predictions about the Second Coming of Christ have become so commonplace, that the entire subject is mocked. The Bible even says that, “Scoffers will come in the last days with scoffing, following their own sinful desires. They will say, ‘Where is the promise of his coming? For ever since the fathers fell asleep, all things are continuing as they were from the beginning of creation.’” (2 Peter 3:3–4)

Not only has the promise of Christ been trampled on by speculation, so has the character of the church. Jesus told us to wait patiently for His return, believing that it will happen at the right time. Instead, our speculation has created date-setting and a host of doctrines and arguments that are divisive rather than edifying. Such a focus also breeds disappointment, skepticism and invites mockery and unbelief. The enemies of Christ blaspheme the very idea of His return, even as many Christians wonder if it will ever happen.

Is the guilt of scoffers shared by believers who speculate? What is worse: to say that He is coming at such and such a time and being wrong? Or the failure to confirm the Word of God that says, “Concerning that day or that hour, no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father” (Mark 13:32)?

Every time I start trying to figure out if this or that will happen, I am entering into forbidden territory, even if I am gazing up into heaven while I do it. Jesus didn’t intend that I stand there watching Him go or wondering when He is coming back. Even as I can pray to Him about everything and trust Him to answer my prayers, I have never been able to guess what He is going to do. He does not offer me that information.

Instead of wasting time in speculations that absorb energy and paralyze action, He wants me to leave that “mountain of ascension” and get busy in everyday life. I am to pray, but also to trust Him and wait in confidence for His grace to live each day. Like a dance partner, He wants me to hold His hand and follow His lead for each step, rather than trying to figure out when this song will end and heaven’s music begins. 

Motivated from the inside out…

Sometimes, when things in life become too confusing, or unbearable, or out of control, I try to imagine a clearer vision, an easier solution, or at least something I can control. This doesn’t work very well. For one thing, my imagination does not even come close to God’s solutions. For this, Paul wrote…

Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, Unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen. (Ephesians 3:20–21, KJV)

God’s view of life is not the same as mine. Where I see chaos and difficulty, He has a plan that is “exceedingly abundantly above” what I can ask for or even imagine. He knows which challenges to place before me that will draw out faith and strengthen my resolve to serve Him. My problem is that if these challenges are producing doubt and disobedience, then what do I do?

Today’s devotional points to the same verse as yesterday. It reminds me of a fundamental truth about being a Christian. My life is not about following rules or doing certain things, but about the motivations behind who I am and what I do. This motivation is not about me or about outside influences. It is about the One who saved and preserves me for Himself, the One who is closer than a brother…

Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you? (1 Corinthians 3:16)

I tend to have a fairly black and white approach to most things. As far as being a Christian is concerned, it seems there are no grey areas. That is, if the Spirit of God is not in control, then the flesh is. I am either filled with Him or filled with myself, standing for Christ or tipped over and useless.

Lately I’m rethinking this. I’ve had so many ups and downs that I often don’t know which way is current. I’ve had several things happen that could be seen as God at work or Satan trying to ruin my walk with Christ. When I ponder the reason for this season of mishmash, it seems related to being immersed in theological studies. The lectures and readings are so amazingly good that my spiritual enemy does not want me to learn and grow, so he is hitting me with all sorts of goop.

But there are other complications. I’ve had old habits  flare up that I assumed were conquered. The spiritual weapons used in the past seem powerless in the present. Not only that, my motivations keep changing. At times, I’ve wondered about my sanity, or is this some sort of dementia? At the same time, I’ve experienced deeper and richer Bible study, amazing messages from the pulpit, and richer and more transparent fellowship with other Christians than ever before. This is like riding a roller coaster, or being in a blender.

The author of the devotional reading says that Christians need strong motives for action and for resistance to temptation. We need them to counter the damaging rule of the flesh from within, and to oppose all that slams into us to crush our wills and fortitude from without.

Certainly, God gives basic truths that are clear and proven weapons. Jesus is my Savior and He WILL save me. With all temptation, God provides a way of escape (1 Corinthians 10:13) even as I struggle to find it. No weapon formed against me shall prosper because my righteousness is from Him (Isaiah 54:17), praise God. A thousand promises are given, plus the example of Jesus using Scripture to fend off the tantalizing offers from His enemy and mine. I have all I need to win this battle.

The devotional writer says that there is no better source for Christian motivation than today’s verse. It appeals to the “sanctity, responsibility, powers, and capabilities” implied in the inward presence of the eternal Spirit of God, the great gift of His new covenant, sent to me by Jesus Christ.

Apart from the Spirit, I have no resource in “moments of moral surprise” or depression, or when a felt sense of isolation threatens to take out my heart. Apart from the Spirit, I cannot respond when called upon to be daring, or to obey a difficult request. As the devotional writer suggests, these words be emblazoned on the walls of that inner temple of my heart. It is here inside my heart that I need Him for acquiring a clear vision, a firm grasp of truth and even more, the ability to make use of what He so freely gives me.

The powerful presence of God

While hardly a perfect comparison, those television commercials for air freshener describe the presence of God. People are blindfolded and put into a ‘stinky mess’ where the freshener has been used. They think they are in a garden, not near a pile of muck.

A better description might be that God is everywhere, even in places we associate with evil, but He is not defiled by the impurity around Him. Imagine the rays of the sun falling on a rotting corpse; that corpse cannot change nor can it spread its corruption to the sunbeam. The presence of God is like that.

Christians who struggle with temptation and sin need to remember His presence and that we have a special relationship with Almighty God. Although He is everywhere, He manifests his presence by his Spirit in an intense and special way for those who are alive in Christ Jesus. We who love Him and have been reborn by His Spirit are profoundly aware of God in us.

Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you? If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy him. For God’s temple is holy, and you are that temple. (1 Corinthians 3:16–17)

How is this practical? That seems a silly question. How is my life and behavior affected when I am with godly people? How do I respond to the presence of someone who is joyful, or kind, or noble, or any other grand quality of character? I am lifted up a notch, encouraged by a higher goodness.

Yet the presence of God in me is more than mere influence. It is the Spirit of Christ that changes the way I think, talk, and act. Apart from Him, I can do nothing. Jesus said,

I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. (John 15:5)

One of my near relatives is a caregiver for her spouse. She told me that she is at the place in her spiritual life where she cannot do anything apart from prayer and the grace of God. This is not only about physical ability. She referred more to having grace and courage, right attitudes and spiritual strength to keep going, wisdom for choices. Her situation is not easy.

We commiserated. I feel that same sense of need. No matter what I tackle, I’m bombarded by temptation to quit doing or saying the right things, even thinking the right thoughts. Apart from the biblical assurance that God is with me, there are days where I wonder if I’m one-step from hell itself. This season of torment seems relentless and without end, having respite only when I’m with other Christians or involved in prayer and reading God’s Word.

One comfort is offered by reform theologian Arthur Pink, in his book called “Practical Christianity.” In talking about the need to guard our hearts, he says that such battles prove that a Christian’s heart is honest and upright. That is, unsaved hypocrites never struggle with and mourn over their heart’s condition or temptation to sin.

He also says God does not leave His people under these burdens without reason. He describes those who struggle with vain thoughts for years and are still plagued by them, yet God uses that to show His people what our hearts are like by nature, and how much we need His grace. He adds, “He would keep you humble, and not let you fall in love with yourself!”

Lastly, Pink says God will shortly put an end to these cares and heartaches. The time is coming when my heart shall be as I want it. I will be delivered from such struggles and never again lament about my hard, vain, earthly and unclean heart. God will purge all darkness from my understanding, all vanity from my affections, all guilt from my conscience, all perversity from my will.

When this happens, I will be always delighted and entertained by the supreme goodness and holy excellency of God. In that day, the shadows will flee away and I “shall be like Him, for (I) shall see Him as He is” (1 John 3:2). 

Secularism

Secular describes the realm of worldly, temporal, unspiritual things, including the attitude toward life of an ungodly person. It was this attitude that ruined Esau. He had been hunting. When he came home, he was hungry and his brother was stirring a pot of stew. When he asked for some, Jacob offered to trade it for the “birthright” that belonged to the eldest son. Esau replied, “I am about to die; of what use is a birthright to me?” (Genesis 25:32)

The Bible says Esau was more concerned about his stomach than his eternal well-being. The birthright was an important part of his heritage and had high spiritual values for God’s people, but this man didn’t care. He’d rather eat, and while being hungry is not a sin, putting food ahead of a sacred blessing gave Esau a historical designation; both Old and New Testaments record God as saying of him…

Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated. (Malachi 1:2-3 and Romans 9:13)

The New Testament comments on Esau as an example of someone who falls short. Bitterness can do it, as can sexual immorality, but so can having a secular or godless mind.

See to it that no one fails to obtain the grace of God; that no “root of bitterness” springs up and causes trouble, and by it many become defiled; that no one is sexually immoral or unholy like Esau, who sold his birthright for a single meal. For you know that afterward, when he desired to inherit the blessing, he was rejected, for he found no chance to repent, though he sought it with tears. (Hebrews 12:15–17)

Some Bibles translate “unholy” as “profane,” a description of people who judge things by coarse earthly standards, without spiritual understanding or insight. They are aware of every other desire, but have no inclination or desire toward God.

Esau had no self-control, but also no appreciation of spiritual values. To him, the birthright was a vague religious blessing, so when the choice came, it seemed a distant sentiment compared to the here and now advantage of a full stomach.

I could put down Esau, but I know how easily I can drift into that secular realm, to have my spiritual values sail off into the sunset while I busily become taken up with the things of this life. I can forget that all of life is sacred and give up on seeking to be godly in all that I do. As today’s devotional writer says, it is easy when “soul wars with sense” to “depreciate everything that is beyond sense” and let my moral standards sag. It is for good reason that the Scripture warns, “See that no one… is godless like Esau.”

Living below my privileges and spiritual opportunities is equivalent to despising my birthright. I am a child of God, reborn to an inheritance and a joint heir with Christ. I belong to the kingdom of heaven, but when I forget or ignore that, I am disinheriting myself as Esau did.

There are consequences. When secular temptation strikes a weak spot, my spiritual life becomes dim. God’s love and holiness, the reality of His kingdom and righteousness, and my life of faith, prayer and fellowship with Him become shadowy and far off.

Besides that, eating the stew is no profit either. Momentary gratification of even legitimate passions mean nothing when that moment is a trade-off for clarity of spiritual vision and a pure heart. What profit is easy self-indulgence if I trade it for peace, love, holiness and joy? Perhaps the worst is what happens after such a trade-off…

Then Jacob gave Esau bread and lentil stew, and he ate and drank and rose and went his way. Thus Esau despised his birthright. (Genesis 25:34)

Esau had his fill and carried on. He didn’t even notice that his life was impoverished. Only later, when he wanted the birthright did he finally realize it was no longer his — but it was too late to do anything to get it back.